


Kisses on the Wrists

by Manuscriptor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Cutting, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Patient!Cas, Therapy, therapist!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 50,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manuscriptor/pseuds/Manuscriptor
Summary: A student fresh out of school with a bright shiny Master's Degree in Counseling, Dean Winchester is eager to start seeing patients in his very own office.His first appointment, though, is harder than he accounts for.A depressed college senior who can't seem to find a reason to keep living, Castiel Shurley thought he would be able to keep himself together when he finally left his broken home and went to college to be an entomologist.





	1. Assignment One

“And you are Castiel I presume?” Dean asked, entering his official patients’ room.

He couldn’t help but feel pride at finally walking into it. He had decorated it himself, selecting the ambiance carefully along with corresponding furniture. It still smelled like the hardware store, but after a couple months of regular patients, that would quickly change.

All his excitement flooded out of him though, when he saw his patient sitting on the large leather recliner.

“Cas, yes,” the black haired man said. He rose to his feet and offered Dean a hand. “And you are Dr. Winchester?”

“Please, call me Dean in our sessions,” Dean said, accepting the handshake.

He was struggling to read Cas already. He was wearing a long sleeve, tan sweater and blue jeans, nothing overly fancy but nothing that was halfhearted. He smiled at Dean, nervously fiddling with his fingers in his lap. One leg bounced perpetually.

Dean knew he was a senior attending the local college. An aspiring entomologist, getting average grades in most of his classes. Teachers reported low participation in extracurricular activities. All he knew were the facts, and Dean wanted to know the person.

“Let’s start,” he said, moving to his own chair and taking a seat. He gestured for Cas to do the same, and the session officially started. “With you. Entomology? That’s bugs, right? What got you interested in that?”

Cas shrugged, looking anywhere but Dean’s face. “I don’t know,” he said. “They’re so tiny but so intricate at the same time. I’ve always found them fascinating.”

Dean flipped through the transcripts the school had given him. “You started off with good grades, above average. It looks like you were doing fantastic.”

Cas didn’t look that impressed. “Everyone starts off with good grades.”

“And it looks like you don’t have any interest in school clubs?” Dean asked, still hoping for a conversation. “Nothing caught your eye?”

“It’s all sports,” Cas said, staring at his lap. “I’m not really a physically fit person.”

Dean gave him an encouraging smile. “You look pretty fit,” he said. “I’m sure you’d be good.”

Cas finally looked him in the eye. “I’m not,” he said with such finality that Dean knew he’d better drop that subject quick.

“How about friends,” he tried. “Do you have someone you’re close to?”

Cas was back to staring at his lap. He just shook his head.

Dean sighed, leaning back in his chair. He said nothing, sitting in silence for a moment. He studied Cas with an open interest, trying to figure the student out.

Cas looked tired, but there were no obvious bas under his eyes. His hair was combed carefully. His clothes looked like they had been carefully picked out. Dean was getting nowhere.

“Tell me, Cas,” he said. “Why did the college recommend you come to me?”

Cas shrugged. “They don’t think my medication is working,” he said. “They think I need . . . . .help.”

“And you’re currently taking Zoloft,” Dean said after a quick glance at the school’s notes. “Do you see any improvement?”

“A little,” Cas said with a noncommittal shrug.

Dean held back a frown. “And how do you feel right now?” he asked.

“Good,” Cas said. "Better than yesterday.”

There we go!

“And how did you feel yesterday?” Dean asked.

Cas picked at a cut on his knuckles. “Worse . . . . worse than today. I’m not sure.”

“Describe it for me the best you can,” Dean coaxed, distractedly tapping his pile of papers with a pen.

“I felt,” Cas started and the paused. He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Try your best,” Dean said. “Use anything you can think of to describe it: colors, smells, experiences, even songs.”

Cas stared at his sneakers and didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It felt like, a thousand waves were beating at the inside of my skull,” he finally said. “It felt like, people were just existing. I was just existing. It felt. . . . . hopeless.”

“And why were you feeling hopeless?” Dean asked, speaking carefully now. “Was it any one thing in particular?”

Cas shook his head. “No,” he said. “Yes. I don’t know. It feel like everything is just . . . . darker than normal. Duller. Like there are clouds in front of the sun? I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

“You are,” Dean encouraged. “It’s not something strange to feel. Did this start your senior year?”

“It started . . . . around the end of my sophomore year,” Cas said. “The beginning of my junior year. People always say it’s the hardest.”

“Were you able to keep up with the work?” Dean asked. He glanced briefly at the papers just to get his GPA average. Indeed, that was the time everything had started to slip.

“Mostly,” Cas said, tugging on the sleeves of his sweater so that the hems came down and covered all of his knuckles. “I got behind a little. But everyone got behind a little.”

“And junior year was also when you started taking Zoloft,” Dean said. “Wanna tell me about that?”

“My family wasn’t happy with it,” Cas said with a dry laugh. “That’s is. End of story.”

Dean was intrigued. He had to keep himself from leaning eagerly forward in his chair. “And why didn’t they like it?” he asked, distracting himself by making random notes in the margins of the medical report.

“Money, mostly,” Cas said. “Insurance didn’t cover the entire cost. My parents – my dad – didn’t like the out-of-pocket expense every month.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “And did you ever feel . . . . guilty about this fact?”

“A little,” Cas said. “I mean, I got the same speech every time we went to the hospital. He asked if I really needed it. Why I wasn’t getting better. Why—“

His voice cracked.

“Why couldn’t I just be happy,” he finished quickly. He rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. He laughed when a couple tears dripped free. “Well, this sucks.”

“It’s fine,” Dean quickly said, reaching behind him to grab the brand new box of tissues he had bought yesterday. He offered them to Cas. “You can express whatever you feel here.”

Cas grabbed a couple and bunched them against his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. After a moment, he took them away, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. His eyes were red. A couple more tears slipped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, whipped them away with the tissues.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Dean said. He left the tissue box on the coffee table between them so Cas could reach it easily. “Your parents didn’t think you needed the medication?”

“They thought I needed something,” Cas said, grabbing a couple more tissues and blowing his nose. “They just didn’t want to pay for anything.”

“Money situations are very sensitive,” Dean said. “Many parents also don’t like to think that their child needs something to help them. They think it means their child is . . . . . broken, in a way.”

“I am broken,” Cas said, clenching his hands into fist and digging them into his thighs.

Dean leaned forward, dipping his head so he could lock eyes with Cas. His lips were trembling and his eyes were watery with unshed tears.

“You are not broken,” Dean said. “I could give you a hundred medical terms to describe the chemical condition of your brain but none of them – none of them! – are broken.”

Cas looked at him, his eyes searching Dean’s face as if he expected it to be a lie or a trick.

“How about this,” Dean said, slowly leaning back in his chair but maintain careful eye contact. “I want you to continue seeing me. Your college will pay for the sessions so you don’t have to worry about money.”

Cas nodded, grabbing another handful of tissues to wipe his eyes with.

“And I want you to do something for me before we meet next week,” Dean said. “I have a little homework for you; think of it as an assignment.”

Cas nodded but was no longer looking at him. He was back to staring at his lap, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater.

“I want you to find one thing,” Dean said. “That makes you smile. It doesn’t have to be bit and it doesn’t have to be something extremely significant. Just something you noticed and made you happy.”

“Okay,” Cas said.

Dean smiled encouragingly, but Cas was still staring at his hands. He closed his file and set it aside, standing. Cas followed suit but still stared at the ground.

“All right then,” Dean said. “I’ll see you next week.”


	2. Assignment Two

“How was your week, Cas?” Dean asked at they both took their seats in the patient’s room.

He looked much better than last week surprisingly. He wore a black sweater today with blue jeans and sneakers. His hair was combed neatly to the side. He even looked more rested. The bags under his eyes were less prominent from what Dean could tell, and he carried himself with more confidence.

“Better,” Cas said, sinking into the leather chair. “Um, a lot better than last week.”

Dean felt a sense of victory flood his chest, but he kept his face carefully neutral as he took the chair across from Cas.

“That’s good,” he said. “Any specific reason why? Did you take your medication?”

Cas nodded. “I did, and I’m not really sure why. It just . . . . . was.”

“Well, that’s good news anyway,” Dean said, shuffling quickly through his folder. “And your homework? Did you remember what I asked last week?”

“I did,” Cas said.

Dean glanced at him when he didn’t answer right away. He was staring at his hands, picking at a scab that Dean didn’t remember him having last week.

“Well?” Dean pressed. “What did you find?”

Cas sat silently for a long moment. Dean didn’t want to pressure him so he let him sit. He doodled absentmindedly on the corners of his papers.

Cas cleared his throat and laughed. “Um, this is gonna sound stupid,” he said. “But, uh, in one of my classes, we went on a hike. The teacher wanted us to collect samples of Daphnia, um, water fleas.”

“That’s interesting,” Dean said. He wasn’t completely sure what water fleas were, but if Cas found them interesting, he could look them up in his spare time and do a quick read through of what Wikipedia had to offer.

“That’s not it,” Cas quickly added. “While we were down by the water, I – uh, I saw ducks. A family of ducks.”

Dean blinked in surprise. That certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. Far from it. But Cas wasn’t done; he stared at his lap while he talked.

“There were four babies,” he said. “Ducklings. And the mom was – she was really nice. She was teaching them how to dive, and well, it made me smile.”

He looked up and finally returned Dean’s gaze.

“That’s what I was supposed to find, right? Something that made me smile?”

“Right,” Dean said. “That is what you were supposed to look for. Is there a specific reason you liked the ducks?”

Cas shrugged and went back to picking at the scab. “It was nice seeing them,” he said. “They were all together, like a family. Like a family should be.”

Dean nodded. That was one of the highlights in Cas’s file.

“Tell me about your family, Cas,” Dean said. “What were they like?”

“Were,” Cas said, a little bit of anger entering his tone. “I don’t really talk to them anymore.”

“Well,” Dean said. “What _were_ they like?”

Cas slumped back in his chair, as if all his effort had been used in that one defiant outburst. He picked at the scab some more; it was starting to bleed.

“My dad worked a lot,” he said. “He really wanted my siblings and I to have a good life, so he had, like, three different jobs. He wasn’t home much, but he kept food on the table.” He laughed. “I’m in my senior year of college with no dept.”

“Well, that’s good,” Dean said. “What about your siblings? Tell me about them.”

“Which ones?” Cas said with a sneer. “Dad had a couple different marriages.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. _That_ hadn’t been in the file.

“Well,” Dean said. “Why don’t you start with the oldest?”

“Four boys then,” Cas said and frowned. “The worst brothers you’ve ever seen. They were always at each other’s throats.”

“You didn’t get along?” Dean asked.

“I came much later,” Cas answered. “They were all grown by the time I was born. And with Dad working, they were more my parents than my brothers.”

“Interesting,” Dean commented. He understood that part at least.

His father was gone a lot working, and he had raised his younger brother Sam mostly on his own.

“Anyone else?”

Cas laughed half-heartedly. “My dad wasn’t one to keep to himself,” he said with a hint of distain. “But he never stayed with one woman. Most of my brothers and sisters don’t stay with me. The moms won custody or something.”

“Is there anyone else at home?” Dean asked, correcting his question.

“A couple other brothers and sisters,” Cas said. “Some older, some younger. We get along pretty decently.”

“Tell me about your older brothers,” Dean said. “Explain the relationship with them.”

“Well,” Cas started, shifting in his seat. “Like I said, my dad was gone a lot. They took his place for the most part.”

“What do you mean by ‘took his place’?” Dean asked.

Part of him was wondering if Sam felt this way: however Cas was feeling. He blocked his own questions out. He had to focus on Cas for now, help him get better before he started worrying about Sam.

“They woke us younger kids up in the morning,” Cas said. “You know, for school. They made lunched, got us dressed, made sure we weren’t late to classes. Gabe signed our failed tests all the way up through tenth grade I think.”

“Gabe?” Dean asked. “Your older brother?”

“One of them,” Cas said. “He was the most involved of the four. He wanted all of us to get a good education. When Mike and Luce would fight, he would be the one trying to calm everyone down. Like a, uh, like a peace keeper or something.”

“And the last brother?” Dean said. “You said four older brothers: Mike, Luce, Gabe, and?”

“Raph,” Cas said. “But he was mostly high all the time. Didn’t care about anyone but himself. When he was sober enough to talk, he wouldn’t shut up about how he was gonna get rich and be super famous.” Cas laughed. “I think he’s in a meth house somewhere now. And the only people he’s famous with are the police.”

“So you had a tough childhood,” Dean said.

Cas shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “I mean, I’m in college so how bad was it really?”

Dean took a deep breath and set aside the file, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He peaked his fingers and stared Cas straight in the eye.

“Cas,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you not to complain because someone else, someone out there, has it worse than you?”

Cas looked reluctant and scared. He crossed his arms slowly and finally nodded.

“Forget them,” Dean said. “Listen to me: your feelings are valid. I don’t care if there are woman getting beaten in the Middle East or children starving in Africa. They have problems, but so do you. You _are_ allowed to voice them.”

Cas’s eyes were starting to water and he bit his lip. Dean leaned back in his chair to give him space and casually moved the tissue box closer. Cas grabbed a fistful quickly and hid his face. His shoulders shook, so Dean knew he was crying. He didn’t say anything, just let Cas ride it out.

Eventually, the hiccups set it and Cas was gasping for breath. A little hill of used tissues was growing next to him as he grabbed more and more. Dean let him do it, didn’t say anything. It was important for Cas to start the next half of this conversation.

Cas finally took a deep breath to compose himself, holding it in until the hiccups passed. He sighed, staring at his lap.

“No one,” he murmured. “No one had ever said that to me.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin. “How about this,” he said. “This coming week, I want you to do something for you. Not something that everyone else wants you to do or something you do every day. Give yourself a treat and go somewhere you normally wouldn’t, buy yourself something, give yourself a break.”

Cas nodded and whipped his eyes again.

Dean smiled. “Until next week then.”


	3. Assignment Three

“Good morning,” Dean greeted as Cas entered to room. He was already sitting, flipping through the file; he had wanted to get a head start reading through some information. Cas didn’t seem too uneasy that Dean had arrived before him.

“Hey,” he said, sitting in his usual chair.

He wore a dark green sweater today – he must really like wearing sweaters during the Fall season – with black jeans. He looked more comfortable than last week. He leaned back in his chair instead of sitting straight.

“How are your classes going?” Dean asked. “Aren’t finals coming up soon?”

“Not for a couple weeks,” Cas said. “But some students are already cram-studying.”

“Do you?” Dean asked. He noticed Cas very rarely talked specifically about himself unless prompted.

Cas shrugged. “Not really,” he said. He looked across the room, eyes flitting over the bookshelves and corner tables.

“You know the material?” Dean asked. Cas’s grades suggested he didn’t but maybe the tests were different.

Cas bit his lip, not answering right away. “I’m average,” he finally said. “I don’t know. I’m not smart but I’m not stupid. I just don’t feel like working sometimes.”

“You don’t understand the concepts?” Dean asked. “Or you aren’t motivated?”

“I don’t feel motivated, I guess,” Cas said. “It’s like, I _know_ I need good grades to graduate and get my degree, but it’s like part of me doesn’t even care what happens to me. Doesn’t even care about my future at all.”

“Do you remember what I asked you to do last week?” Dean said.

Cas finally smiled and nodded. “I did,” he said. “It was. . . . . Wow! Freeing? I don’t know how to describe it.”

Dean smiled as well. “What did you do?”

Now Cas looked embarrassed. “Well, I don’t have a car or any other way to get around, so I don’t often leave the campus of the college, but, uh, Thursday, I walked down Main Street and stopped at a café and had a cup of coffee.”

“That’s good,” Dean said. “That sounds nice. A cup of coffee is often a nice perk to enjoy.”

“I even bought a donut,” Cas said and then looked back down at his hands in embarrassment. “I, um, don’t often eat donuts.”

“That’s fine,” Dean said. “You said this was . . . . . freeing? Could you describe it more for me?”

Cas bit his lip, thinking for a bit. Finally he laughed it embarrassment, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s gonna sound weird,” he said.

“It won’t” Dean reassured. “Just explain it the best you can.”

“It was. . . . .” Cas started. “It was. . . . like I could breathe. No one was expecting me to say or do anything. The pressure of school was gone. Well, not _gone_ gone, but I could ignore it.”

Dean nodded. He held off speaking, wanting Cas to continue talking.

“Like, the entire world is crazy, you know?” Cas said, looking up from his lap as understanding lit up his eyes. “And when I try to focus on all of it at once, it’s overwhelming. But taking it a little at a time, just sitting and having coffee and letting everyone rush in front of me, it felt so much better.”

It was uplifting to see Cas finally make a little sense of his life. Dean liked seeing Cas’s shoulders lift a little as a weight was taken off.

“Maybe I care too much,” Cas continued. “About everyone and everyone’s opinion.”

“Can I tell you something?” Dean said.

Cas looked up at him, nervously biting his lip before nodding.

“Sometimes,” Dean said. “The world deserves a big, giant, Fuck You.”

Cas laughed, picking at a scab on his wrist.

“I’m not kidding,” Dean said, smiling. “They deserve it. You don’t owe them anything. What has the world done for you? Anything?”

Cas smiled at his shoes. “No,” he said, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“Go on,” Dean said. “Say it. Flip off the world if you need to. Just. . . . . fuck them!”

Cas giggled. “Yeah,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Fuck them.”

Dean smiled. They were getting somewhere now. “Louder,” he prompted. “Fuck them!”

“Fuck them,” Cas said in a regular voice, no longer staring at his lap.

“Fuck them!” Dean repeated, almost shouting now.

“Fuck them!” Cas said, even louder. He was beaming, cheeks bright red and eyes shining.

“Feel good?” Dean asked, smiling as well.

Cas laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “That was . . . . . fun!”

“And the world deserves it too,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t think you owe anybody anything. Not a smile, not a hug, not even a wave.”

“But my family,” Cas said.

“Who is paying your college bill?” Dean interrupted.

“Um, me,” Cas said.

“And who bought all your textbooks?”

“M. . . .Me.”

“How many hours do you work a week?”

“F. . . . fifty to sixty.”

“And you’re a full-time student?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah. . . “

Dean smiled. “Then fuck them!”

Cas giggled again and then sighed. “I can’t just leave them though,” he said. “Family is, well, family is family.”

Dean nodded. “I understand,” he said. “How about this, excluding your family, I want you to say ‘fuck you’ to someone by next week.”

Cas looked at him in surprise. “Wait! Like out loud?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “You just said it in front of me. Now you just have to say it to someone else.”

Cas was quickly turning red. “But, but saying it in front of someone else is different,” he said. “That would be rude, and, and, and –“

“Okay, back up,” Dean said. “If you don’t want to do it that’s fine.”

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled, staring at his lap.

“It’s alright,” Dean said. “How about this instead: exercise greatly improves mental health by releasing endorphins. So this week, I want you to take a quick jog sometime. Not anything long or extremely strenuous. Just get outside and get your heart rate up. Does that sound easier?”

Cas nodded, scratching at the back of his hand.

“Good,” Dean said. “Then I guess I’ll be seeing you next week.”


	4. Assignment Four

 

Dean’s phone rang as he was walking back to his table. He was carrying two large Americanos in tall cups so his hands were full. He picked up his pace, almost running into Sam as he rounded the syrup and condiment bar.

“Here,” he said, shoving both of the drinks to his brother to hold.

“Careful,” Sam said, cringing as the hot liquid sloshed dangerously.

Dean ignored him, pulling out his phone and checking the caller ID. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but it had been saved to his phone just not labelled.  He accepted the call and brought it to his ear.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Is this Dean?” a panicked voice asked. “Is this Dean Winchester?”

“It is,” Dean said. “Who is this?”

“Oh my gosh,” the voice said, breathing heavily into the microphone. “Sorry. This is Cas. Shurley. Castiel Shurley. Sorry!”

A small string of worry knotted in Dean’s stomach. Why would Cas be calling him? “Cas, are you okay?” he said. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Sam gave him a look of confusion. “Who is it?” he whispered.

“Patient,” Dean mouthed back.

“No, no,” Cas said. “I’m fine.” His breath hitched and then he gasped. “No, wait. I’m not fine. Holy crap! I need you!”

“I’m coming,” Dean assured, motioning for Sam to go outside and start his car. “But I need an address.”

Cas rattled off a string of letters and numbers along with a street name and a couple lefts and rights.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Dean reassured, hurrying out of the coffee shop.

Sam had pulled the impala up to the curb, and Dean jumped in the passenger seat, mouthing the address before returning to Cas.

“Talk to me,” he said. “What’s going on inside your head?”

Cas was still breathing hard, as if he had run a race. “It’s crazy,” he said. “All jumbled up.”

“Keep going,” Dean urged. “I’m almost there.” He pointed to the left, and Sam had to slam the breaks to make the turn.

“I have, like, a million thoughts right now,” Cas said. “And they are all screaming at me. It’s really loud.”

“Deep breaths,” Dean coaxed. “In, out. In, out. Close your eyes if that helps.”

Sam pulled the car into a parking lot of the local college, pulling up to the doors of the main building. Dean jumped out, scanning the area for Cas.

“I’m here,” he said. “Where are you?”

“Bathroom,” Cas said. “First floor of the dining complex. Third stall. No one else is in here.”

Dean took off at a jog, clutching the phone to his ear. “Keep talking to me,” he said. “Do you feel any better?”

“It’s still crazy,” Cas said. “Still loud.”

“I’m almost there,” Dean promised, rounding the corner of the hall. He brushed passed a group of students on their way to eat, each on their phone, talking and chatting with each other. He could see the door of the bathroom now.

In a moment, he was there, pushing the door open. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and took a careful breath.

“Cas?” he said softly.

The third stall door swung open and Cas burst out, eyes lighting up when he saw Dean. He dropped his own phone to the tiles and rushed forward, grabbing Dean in a tight hug, burying his face into the fabric of his jacket.

Dean stiffened against the contact. He wasn’t supposed to touch patients. But Cas only gripped him tighter; Dean could feel Cas’s heard pounding against his skin, through their clothes. Finally, he awkwardly patted Cas on the back.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Cas pushed away, to Dean’s relief. He was smiling wide, cheeks bright red, eyes shining. “I did it!” he said with a laugh. “I – I actually did it!”

“Did what?” Dean said.

Cas laughed. “I told someone to fuck off!” he said and then hugged Dean again.

Dean was more confused now.

“Told who?” he asked. “What?”

Cas let him go for a second time and laughed again. “Last week,” he said. “During our. . . . . session. You said I had to tell someone to fuck off.”

Now Dean remembered.

“But you didn’t want to,” he said. “We changed the assignment.”

Cas’s smile wavered a bit. “But,” he said. “But I did it.”

Dean immediately regretted his words. “No, it’s good,” he said. He grabbed Cas’s wrists. “Who was it? Why did you say it?”

Cas smiled at his shoes. “It was Megan,” he said softly. “Um, she’s just the girl at the salad bar.”

“A girl?” Dean pressed.

Cas giggled, looking up at him again. “A bitch.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile with him. Swearing was like candy to this kid. As if his parents had never let him have any growing up, and now he was stuffing his face with whatever he could get his hands on. It was adorable.

“Well,” Dean said. “Tell me all about it.”

“She’s the salad girl,” Cas said and when Dean raised an eyebrow, he quickly explained. “The student in charge of the salad bar, keeping everything stocked and fresh.”

Dean nodded. “Ah. And what did Megan do?”

“Every day,” Cas said, his smile becoming a little strained. “She would always make some stupid comment about how much I ate.”

Dean made a mental note to talk about Cas’s diet the next session they had. He hoped desperately that the student was getting enough to eat.

“But this time,” Cas said. “When she said. . . . . whatever, I – I – I don’t know what came over me.”

“Yeah?” Dean said.

Cas grinned. “I looked her straight in the eye and told her to fuck off.” He laughed. “And her face was hilarious!”

Dean laughed with him. “Give me your best impression!”

Cas struggled to calm his laughing before managing to pull a straight face. He then raised his eyebrows and dropped his mouth open so that he looked like a fish caught in an alien strobe light.

“Castiel Shurley!” he said, his voice cracking as he raised it to supposedly match Megan’s whiny tone. “How dare you speak to me like that! You _know_ my dad is on the board of directors and can have you expelled.”

Dean laughed at the impression. “And?” he coaxed. “You just walked away?”

Cas shook his head, his smile returning even bigger and brighter than before. “No,” he said and giggled. “I told her to fuck off again.”

Dean laughed. He couldn’t help it. This kid was beyond amazing. Cas was laughing too, and they clutched at each other as they doubled over breathless.

“And _then_ ,” Cas said between laughs. “And _then_ I turned and walked away!”

Dean couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t fucking believe it. Cas had balls. Behind his studious, rule-abiding, quiet exterior, he had the sass of a drag queen.

“You did it,” he said, clutching Cas’s shoulders so he could meet his gaze. “You did it, and I’m _proud_.”

Cas beamed at him. “And it felt amazing,” he added. “Absolutely, fucking amazing.” He laughed at his word choice, and Dean smiled.

Just like candy to this kid. Swearing was just like candy.


	5. Assignment Five

 

“Well,” Dean said as he and Cas took their regular seats in his office. “We have a lot to talk about this week, don’t we?”

Cas was smiling. He had arrived smiling and still hadn’t stopped. His cheeks had to be hurting by now. Dean wasn’t quite sure how he did it.

“Yeah!” Cas said excitedly, plopping down in his usual seat. “Megan hasn’t even _looked_ in my direction after what happened!”

“That’s great,” Dean said. He clicked his pen open and closed absentmindedly. “Did she normally give you a lot of trouble?”

Cas shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, his smile wavering. “She just liked to remark on what I ate.”

Dean made a note in the margins of Cas’s file. “And what do you normally eat?”

Cas’s smile fell completely away, and he stared at his lap. He fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “Enough,” he said. “Usually breakfast and dinner.”

“Every day?” Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. “I guess.”

“Does the cafeteria not serve food you like?” Dean said. “Or your diet?”

“No, it’s good,” Cas said. “They usually have a big variety.”

“So you find enough to eat?” Dean said. “But you only eat dinner?”

“I have class during lunch,” Cas said defensively. “And I always grab something for breakfast!”

“Then why does Megan tease you about what you eat?” Dean pressed. He was determined to get a straight answer out of his patient.

“I don’t know,” Cas said. “She’s a bitch. I don’t know.”

“I think you do know,” Dean said softly. He had to be more careful now. If he misspoke, Cas could shut down and not want to talk at all.

“I eat,” Cas insisted, picking at a cut on his knuckles. “I eat enough. Why does this suddenly matter?!” He looked up, his expression a mix of confusion, sadness, and anger.

“I just want to know,” Dean said.  “If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to talk about it. All right?”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about it,” Cas said and returned his gaze to his lap.

“But we should talk about something,” Dean finished. “You aren’t paying me to sit in silence.”

Cas didn’t say anything. Only continued to pick at the scab on his knuckles.

“Cas,” Dean pressed.

“I don’t know!” Cas said. “Why can’t we just sit in silence? That’s all I want to do!”

Dean sighed. He had said something wrong. Cas was shutting down. He had to say something quick or else the session would end in turmoil and who knew if that could be salvaged.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “Instead, tell me about your biology class. You’re taking biology right?”

“Zoology,” Cas corrected in a grumbled. “Why do you care?”

“And how’s that going?” Dean said, ignoring the hostility in Cas’s voice. “Do you take trips like the one you told me about?”

“Sometimes,” Cas mumbled.

“Done any recently?”

“The farm,” Cas said. “We went to see a horse give birth.”

Dean felt his stomach turn slightly at the idea but did his best to ignore it. “That must have been interesting,” he said.

Cas shrugged. “I want to be an entomologist,” he said. “I want to study insects. I’m only taking zoology because I missed it my sophomore year.”

Dean frowned but only for a moment before neutralizing his expression. Cas was definitely shutting down now. Instead of trapping him though, Dean decided to give him a way of escape.

“How about we cut this session short,” he said. “We’ll get some sleep and come back next week when we’re both well rested.”

Cas’s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. “Okay,” he said. He tugged down his sweater sleeves and stood.

“Your assignment,” Dean said, standing with him. “Find me your favorite bugs. All of them. I want to see them. Tell me how they function and why they’re your favorite. I want to know everything about them.”

Cas managed a smile. “Okay,” he said. “Um, I’ll see you next week.”


	6. Assignmet Six

 

“I’d like to put what happened last week behind us,” Dean said as he led Cas into his office. “And I apologize for what I said and did.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said, fiddling with a stray thread hanging off his sweater. “I said some bad things too.”

“Instead of talking about that,” Dean said, taking his usual seat. “Let’s talk about the assignment we ended last session with.”  

Cas lit up like a firework on the fourth of July and jumped back to his feet. “I left it in the waiting room,” he said. “But I brought it! Wait here!”

Before Dean could say a word, Cas had dashed off. Dean was left wondering: _what_ had Cas brought? And why was it so big that he had had to leave it out in the waiting room? Bugs were supposed to be small?

. . . . . . Right?

Dean felt a wave of goosebumps crawl up his arms. What kind of monstrosity had Cas brought from his insect class?! It was when Cas re-entered to room did Dean really start to worry.

His patient carried a glass terrarium with what looked like an entire ecosystem inside. There was a layer of dirt on the bottom with five different types of flowers growing in it. There was even a small dish of water sitting at the bottom.

“Sorry,” Cas mumbled as he set the tank down on the coffee table. “But I wanted them to feel at home.”

“Them?” Dean said. He was ready to jump out of his seat the moment Cas pulled out something with too many legs or giant pincers or spikes where there shouldn’t be.

Cas grinned and pulled out a water bottle. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They won’t hurt you. As long as they had sugar water, they’re happy. And I’ve had them for three days now, they’re practically domestic.”

Against his better judgement, Dean leaned forward and looked through the glass.

A fat, lazy-looking bumble bee was perched on the lip of a purple flower, cleaning its antenna. And there was another one, sitting on a twig, shuffling its legs. And another! On the dirt, sitting on the lip of the plastic container half filled with water.

“I’ll show you,” Cas said and popped the top off the terrarium.

“Don’t let them out!” Dean said.

Cas laughed. “They aren’t going anywhere,” he said. “They’re just itty bitty puppies once they’re happy.” He unscrewed his water bottle and poured some into the container, clicking his tongue.

On que, the three bees all fluttered their wings and buzzed down to the dish.

“Dinner,” Cas explained to a thoroughly confused Dean. “I told you, I’ve had them for three days now.”

“This is amazing!” Dean said, studying the bees closer now.

“Bees are my favorite insect,” Cas said. “Like you said to bring. They are actually really smart. The males, that is. The queens are obviously intelligent but studies show that so are the males.” He reached down into the tank and let one bee crawl onto his finger. “And people don’t understand that they only sting when they’re scared,” he went on, watching as it crawled over his knuckles, twitching his antenna at the scabs it found. “Bees are actually some of the cutest insects. Hard workers too.”

Dean was starting to relax now as he watch Cas with the bees. Being an entomologist was a good choice; he really did like bugs. Probably more than people.

“Can, can I try?” he asked, setting aside his clipboard and pen.

Cas looked up at him, surprise mixing with his happiness.

“Of course,” he said. “You just have to be careful. If the bee stings you, it dies.”

Dean shifted forward in his seat and held out his hand, a little ashamed when it shook slightly. “Yeah, the bee dying,” he said. “That’s what we’re worried about.”

Cas gave him a stink eye. “We _are_ ,” he said. “Just hold still and you’ll be fine.”

He cupped Dean’s hand in his own, tugging him closer. He splayed the fingers of his other hand, letting the bee travel down his pointer finger, which he placed on Dean’s palm. Dean sucked in an involuntary breath as he felt the bee’s tiny legs tickle his skin. And just like that, Cas was pulling his hands away. He kept one cupped under Dean’s though, as if he were scared for the bee.

“Wow,” Dean said as the bee circled his palms curiously.

“Watch this,” Cas said, reaching back into the terrarium. He dipped his fingers into the bowl of sugar water and let a couple drops drip onto Dean’s palm.

The bee eagerly crawled to investigate the liquid and waved it’s front legs excitedly when it discovered the sugar water.

Cas laughed, and Dean smiled.

“I think I’m starting to see why they’re your favorites,” Dean said.

“There’s around forty to sixty thousand worker bees in each hive,” Cas said, letting the bee crawl from Dean’s palm back to his fingers. “I mean, it must be easy for them to get lost in the crowd. Like this little guy.”

Dean lost his smile, watching as Cas stared lovingly at the bee in his hands.

“They go over three miles from their hive,” Cas went on. “Three miles from their home, just to find food for their queen. You know what the human equivalent to that is? Fifty-eight _million_ miles!”

Dean had a feeling Cas had thought this through before.

Cas smiled down at the bee and placed it back in the terrarium. “Compared to them, I didn’t even go that far,” he said. “I’m practically still in my backyard.”

“Where are you from, Cas?” Dean asked. The topic had never come up in their talks, and it would be awkward to check the file now. (Although he didn’t recall seeing that bit of information before.)

“Chicago,” Cas replied with a half-hearted smile. “Go cubs!”

“You a sports fan?” Dean asked. Sports and bugs didn’t seem like the usual mix.

Cas shook his head. “No, my older brother is. Wild fan.”

“And you came all the way to California for college?” Dean said.

“It’s one of the best schools for entomology,” Cas said.

Dean bit his lip, wondering if he should ask.

Cas was obviously running from something. Maybe someone. Most likely family. The way he had talked of them before made it sound like they weren’t on very good standing. Perhaps there had been a big fight or fallout right before Cas had left.

“Cas,” he said, leaning forward in his seat.

Cas looked up, half way done with putting the cover back on the terrarium. “Yeah?”

“For next week,” Dean said and paused. He had to be extra careful if he wanted to get the family involved. “Next week I want you to call home.”

Absolute terror flooded Cas’s features, and his mouth dropped open. For a moment, he was a deer in the headlights, silent, scared, freaked.

“No,” he said, his voice soft. “No, I – I can’t do that! You don’t understand! I – I _can’t_ do that!”

“Just one phone call,” Dean pressed. “Just say hi and hang up; it doesn’t have to be a heartfelt confession or anything.”

“I know,” Cas said, his eyes still wide with fear. “But – but I _can’t_. I just _can’t_. You don’t understand. Dad doesn’t – my brothers –“

“Call them,” Dean said. “Come on. You can do this. I believe in you. I know you. You’re strong enough to do this.”

Cas took a deep shaky breath and stared at his lap for a long moment. Dean didn’t say anything, letting him think it out.

“Fine,” Cas said. “I’ll – I’ll _try_ , okay?”

“That works for me,” Dean said and glanced at his watch. “And I think our time is almost up.”

“But you have to keep the bees,” Cas suddenly blurted.

“Wait, what?” Dean said.

Cas wrung his hands nervously. “The bees,” he said. “You have to keep them. My roommate is already sick of them, and I don’t want to let them go just yet.”

Dean bit his lip, staring at the terrarium with uncertainty. How was he even supposed to take care of bees anyway? He hadn’t even had a dog growing up!

“Uh, sure!” he said. “I can keep them at the office.”

“But they need sugar water,” Cas said sternly. “Three times a day. So make sure you feed them.”

“I’ll feed them,” Dean reassured. “You just call your family by next week.”


	7. Assignment Seven

 

Cas was an absolute bundle of nerves when he showed up at the office. He wore gloves and a scarf – the temperature was starting to drop – along with his usual sweater and jeans.

“I don’t want to sit,” he said when Dean took his regular place. “I can’t.”

“I’m just going to ask right away,” Dean said. “Did you do it? Did you call?”

With the way Cas was acting, Dean was a little worried. Maybe he had jumped the gun too soon, making Cas call. Maybe he should’ve waited another week or so before asking such a huge thing.

But no. Cas had been ready. He had been strong enough. He had _always_ be strong enough; he just needed someone to tell him so.

“I did it,” Cas said. He was tapping a fist on his thigh, eyes flicking around the room. He was on the brink of hyperventilating; Dean could tell.

“Hey, woah, calm down,” he said, standing up and moving to Cas’s side. “Deep breaths now. Tell me what happened.”

Cas looked at him, blue eyes filled with panic. “I did it,” he repeated. “I – I _did_ it.”

“Talk to me,” Dean urged. He grabbed Cas’s hand just to stop the tapping. “Deep breaths. Calm down. Talk me through what happened.”

Cas took a deep breath but collapsed back into shallow pants. “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he said. His voice was shaky, and his eyes were red. “Dean, I’m so scared.”

Dean broke the rules.

He wasn’t supposed to touch his patients. The sessions were supposed to be professional, talking only. They were supposed to be strictly confidential information and that was it. To take advantage of someone while they were going through a tough time – well, it was the worst taboo his schooling had warned him about. He could go to jail if someone saw him right now.

But Dean couldn’t help it.

He pulled Cas into a hug. A tight hug. Like the world was ending and if he let go even for a moment that everything would collapse into utter chaos without rhyme or reason, just a lawless mess of absolutely nothing.

And Cas hugged him back. Just as tight. Because his world _was_ ending and if he let go even for a moment, everything would collapse into utter chaos without rhyme or reason and become a lawless mess of absolutely nothing.

“It’s alright, Cas,” Dean said, speaking into Cas’s shoulder. “I got you.”

Cas’s fingers dug into his shoulders, gripping him tight through the fabric. He sobbed once before burying his face completely in Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t know what to do!” he said, his words faint but clearly there. “I don’t know what to do!”

“It’s alright,” Dean repeated. “Just breathe for me right now.  Nothing else matters. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Cas whimpered and clung to him tighter, shoulders shaking as he cried. It was silent tears, like he was used to hiding it. Like he was used to making sure no one could hear him. Like he was used to the hurting.

But he clung to Dean like someone starved of human contact.

Dean didn’t push him away. He held him tight. He held him like nothing else mattered. And nothing else did. It was just him and Cas. Cas and him. If he could’ve locked the doors to the outside world forever, he would’ve in a heartbeat.

They stayed like that for a long moment. They stayed with their bodies pressed against each other as they each clung tight, tighter than they had held anyone in a long time. Until Cas pushed away.

“We can’t do this,” he said, wiping his eyes on the backs of his sleeves.

“I know I’m not supposed to touch my clients,” Dean said. “But I think this exception –“

“No, not that,” Cas said. He stared at his feet. “My family knows about you. And they’re coming. They’re coming here.”

“What do you mean?” Dean said. “The college is paying for it. Your parents don’t have to worry about money.”

Cas’s eyes were wide with panic. “It’s not my dad,” he said, his voice soft with fear. “It’s my brother. And he knows who you are and where your office is and he promised he would come today.”

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. School hadn’t prepared him for this. “When did he say he was coming?” he asked, hurrying to his desk to grab his coat and car keys. He tugged them on, motioning for Cas to do the same. “We can leave while there’s still a chance.”

He rushed to the door and ripped it open, almost running straight into the man waiting outside.

“You must be Dr. Winchester,” the man said, his blue eyes cold as steel, nothing like Cas’s. “You know, I just heard about you yesterday.”

He pressed his hands flat on either side of the doorway, blocking the way out. Dean stepped back, staying between Cas and the man that was clearly his brother.

“Cas,” the man said, stepping fully into the room. “Why don’t you introduce us? Or have you lost your voice?”

Dean glanced over at Cas, feeling his heart twist as the student visibly flinched at the words. He was so scared. No, beyond scared. He was terrified.

“L-L-Luce, this is Dea – Dr. Winchester,” he stuttered, staring at his shoes. He was scratching at his arm, bouncing his leg, clearly panicked. “Dr. Winchester, this is my b-brother, L-Luce.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, offering Luce a hand.

Luce rolled his eyes  at the gesture. “Enough formalities,” he said. “Cas, what are you doing here?”

Dean stepped so he was still a shield for Cas. “The college he’s attending recommended—“

“Did I ask _you_?” Luce snapped. “Cas!”

Cas jumped. “Uh, I was – I was just leaving! Don’t worry. I was just leaving.”

Dean scowled. “You are not leaving,” he said and turned to Luce. “Your name isn’t on Cas’s medical file to you have no right in deciding what sort of treatment he receives.”

Luce scowled back, his gaze just as venomous. “Are you part of this family?” he said. “No, so please keep your nose to yourself. Cas, we’re leaving.”

Cas hung his head and obediently headed toward the door. Dean stepped in front of him, stopping his exit.

“You do not have to listen to him, Cas,” he said. “Remember? You don’t owe the world anything.”

Cas looked hopeful for a moment, straightening his shoulders and taking a step back towards the center of the room. He was frozen by Luce’s cold words.

“Still collecting bees?”

And just like that, Cas wilted.

Luce had spotted the terrarium and had walked over to it. He was tapping the glass with one finger, making the bees buzz around in agitation. Cas clenched his hands into fists but didn’t raise his voice against the insect’s treatment.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

Luce tsked. “When will you get over this stupid hobby?” he asked.

“Sorry,” Cas murmured.

Dean felt his blood start to boil. He couldn’t stand to see Cas treated with such disdain, such condescending. He was smart and clever and loved insects with his whole heart. His eyes had lit up when he talked about them last week. Now, he hunched his shoulders against the verbal abuse and did nothing.

“Cas is studying to be an entomologist,” Dean said. “A professional in insects. It’s not some stupid hobby; it’s his career choice. If you could respect that—“

“Do I need to remind you that you aren’t part of our family?” Luce said, cutting him off. He gripped the top of the terrarium in a white knuckled grip. “Keep to yourself, Doctor, your opinion isn’t wanted.”

Dean stepped forward, squaring off his shoulders as a challenge. “Cas is my patient,” he said.

“And he’s my brother!” Luce said back. “And if I say he’s coming with me, than he’s coming with me.”

“He isn’t,” Dean said. “That isn’t what he needs.”

“You don’t know what he needs!” Luce said. “You didn’t live with him for eighteen years, making sure he had enough to eat and clothes to wear just so that he wouldn’t be made fun of at school! For eighteen years, I bussed tables and took tips and beat up anyone who looked at him wrong _just_ so that he could be where he is today! So don’t you tell me what he does and doesn’t need! I know!”

Dean clenched his teeth. “This is a difficult matter altogether,” he tried. “It’s not because you didn’t do something. It’s because –“

With a crash, Luce pushed the terrarium off the table. The poor bees inside didn’t even have a chance in the avalanche of soil and glass.

Cas let out a gasp of horror, hands flying to his mouth, but there was nothing he could do. They were gone.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Luce said calmly. “Cas is coming with me.”

“No,” Dean said. “No, he isn’t.”

With a step, he was at Cas’s side, grabbing his wrist and holding him close.

“My patient’s health is my number one concern and, brother or not, you will not be helping him if he goes with you.”

Dean didn’t wait for Luce’s reaction. He tugged Cas along, practically dragged him out of the office, through the lobby, out the front door, and to where he had parked the impala.

“Get in,” he said.

“But Luce,” Cas protested, glancing back over his shoulder. “What if—“

“Fuck him,” Dean said. “I am not letting you go back to a relationship as abusive as that. Get in the car. We’re leaving right now.”

Cas gulped but obeyed, sliding into the passenger seat while Dean jumped behind the wheel. Cas was shaking hard now, legs bouncing, gasping for breath. Dean wished he could stop and make sure he was okay but there wasn’t time for that. He peeled out of the parking lot, gunning the engine.

“Just breathe for me,” he coaxed. “That’s all you have to do, Cas, is breath for me. All right?”

“Where are we going?” Cas asked. Even his voice was shaky.

“Home,” Dean replied. “I’m taking you home.”


	8. Assignment Eight

 

“Cas is going to be staying with us for a while,” Dean told Sam when they walked through the kitchen and got a strange look. “Things came up at the office.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said. He was washing the dishes from last night’s spaghetti.

“Cas, this is my brother Sam,” Dean said, officially introducing the two. “Sam, this is Cas, from the office.”

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said, wiping his hands on a towel before offering one for a shake. “Dean doesn’t talk a lot about you, but it’s great to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Sam,” Cas said, his voice a tiny squeak. He reached out from behind Dean to quickly squeeze Sam’s hand before shying away.

“I’m gonna go set up the guest bedroom,” Dean said. “Cas, you wanna stay here? Sam can make you something to eat, maybe a cup of tea.”

Cas shook his head. “I wanna go with you,” he said.

“That’s fine,” Dean said quickly. He wanted Cas to slowly adjust; being alone with Sam probably wasn’t the best idea anyway. “Sam, you wanna make us something anyway?”

“Sure,” Sam said and opened the cupboard, pulling down three mugs.

Dean walked further into the house that he and Sam shared, leading the way to the guest bedroom. Cas stuck close behind him, practically stepping on his heels. Dean climbed the stairs to the second floor and opened the door for Cas, flicking on the lights.

“You can stay here for a couple days,” he said. “I’ll call the college tonight to explain, and we can go get anything you need from your dorm tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Cas said.

“For tonight,” Dean continued, bustling around the room to straighten things out. “I’m sure I can find a t-shirt and sweatpants to fit you.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Cas said. “I can just wear my sweater and jeans. You don’t have to find anything.”

“You can’t sleep in jeans,” Dean said. “And Sam keeps the heat cranked up at night so it’s gonna get too hot for a sweater. Trust me.”

“O-okay,” Cas said, twisting the sleeves of his sweater nervously.

“Alright,” Dean said, stepping back and giving the room a nod of satisfaction. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna go see what Sam has done about that tea.”

He gave Cas one last encouraging smile before leaving him alone. As he walked down the stairs, back to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but panic a little. School hadn’t prepared him for this. It hadn’t prepared him for literally harboring his patients in his home. For protecting them from their flesh-and-blood family.

They said it would be tough, sure. He would deal with people with anger issues and kids who wanted to hurt themselves and others. He would deal with the loneliest people and the saddest and the most violent but never this.

He never expected this.

“How’s he doing?” Sam asked as Dean stepped into the kitchen. He was pouring hot water into three mugs, sugar and honey set out for sweetening.

“I have no idea,” Dean said, running a hand over his face and leaning on the counter. “I mean, I do but at the same time. . . . It’s hell, Sammy.”

“Can you say what happened?” Sam asked, adding generous globs of honey to each cup. “Or is this still confidential?”

Sam was familiar with the rules: what happened at Dean’s work, stayed at Dean’s work. It was patient confidentiality. If he was asking about it now, it was because he wanted to help.

“I have no idea,” Dean repeated. “I didn’t go to a class for this.”

“Let him sleep for now,” Sam said, handing Dean two cups of tea. “I know how stressful school can be.”

Dean nodded, taking the cups. Sam was in his last year of law school, about to graduate. While the grunt of the work had been done his junior year, he still spent most nights hunched over his computer, working on one project or another.

Dean stopped in his own bedroom to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants before carrying the tea to the guest bedroom.

Cas was sitting on the bed, staring at his glove covered fingers. He had taken his scarf off at least; it was lying beside him. Other than that, he was still fully dressed.

“Here you go,” Dean said, making sure he spoke before entering to room so he didn’t scare Cas. He handed him one of the mugs and set the clothes at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” Cas said, wrapping his hands around it. He blew on the steam but didn’t drink.

“Sam made it,” Dean said, feeling a need to fill the awkward silence between them. This wasn’t like the office. “He makes, uh, good tea.”

Cas nodded but still didn’t drink.

“And I brought you a pair of my clothes to sleep in,” Dean said. “They should fit. So . . . . uh, you can be comfortable.”

Cas nodded again, still not saying anything.

Dean bit his lip, considering leaving. Then he decided, no. Cas needed help, and he was Cas’s help. That’s what the college _paid_ him to do. It was so far past money at this point though. Dean didn’t even care if that next check was deposited in his account or not. All that mattered at the moment, was Cas.

He crossed the room in two steps and set his own mug of tea on the bedside table, sinking into the mattress next to Cas. He took his mug and set it aside too; it was clear Cas wasn’t interested in it.

“It’s okay,” he said, wrapping an arm around Cas’s shoulders and pulling him close.

Cas crumpled into the embrace, hugging him back as he buried his face in Dean’s chest. He clung to him just as tight as he had at the office, maybe even tighter. And he cried.

“You’re going to be okay, Cas,” Dean murmured, stroking circles on Cas’s back, massaging his shoulders. “Everything is going to be okay. I got you.”

“Don’t leave me,” Cas said, begging between his sobs. “Dean, don’t leave me!”

“Sshh, I won’t,” Dean said. “I won’t. I promise. I’m gonna stay right here.”

Cas whimpered and hiccupped, trying to get out more words. Dean shushed him.

“You don’t have to talk, Cas,” he said. “You don’t have to talk. I understand and I’ve got you. You don’t have to do anything.”


	9. Assignment Nine

 

Dean woke up first.

It wasn’t like a wake-up wake up. It was a slow, rising to the conscious world, like dragging his legs through tar. And as he slowly shook the sleep from his mind, he became aware of how warm he was.

What?

He woke-up woke up then, popping his eyes open, surprised to see Cas curled next to him, hugging his waist like a child hugs his favorite teddy bear.

“Cas,” he muttered, nudging the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Cas, wake up.”

Cas groaned and shifted but ended up only tightening his grip and snuggling closer.

“Dammit,” Dean muttered, slouching back into the pillows.

He must’ve dosed off last night. Cas too. They must have fallen asleep accidentally after last night’s cry. What if Sam walked in on them?

On a second thought, Sam was most likely at school already. Probably left hours ago.

Dean stared at the ceiling and listened to Cas snore softly. It was comforting; it was the only noise in the house. And having someone to cuddle with wasn’t that bad.

Dean corrected himself. No. This wasn’t cuddling. This was an accident. He and Cas hadn’t meant to fall asleep together. When Cas woke up, Dean was pretty sure they would both brush the incident off. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to actually touch his patients. He could lose his license for it. Touching a patient was the biggest taboo a therapist could do, even if it wasn’t meant to be manipulative or sexual. Bringing Cas to his house was bad, actually spending the night with him in bed – even if they had done nothing – was even worse. He should really push Cas away or get out of bed himself, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to move. Maybe it was the warmth, maybe it was the heat, maybe it was something else. Anyway, Cas wasn’t moving.

For now, he may as well enjoy it.

Dean closed his eyes and before he knew it, had dosed off again.

He woke up with his phone alarm beeping at him. Loudly. Dean winced at the noise and rolled over, slapping the desk until he found his phone and dismissed the alarm. He then groaned and sat up, checking the time.

Damn! It was late!

He shoved off his blankets and stood, mentally face palming when he realized he had slept fully clothed. He must have been exhausted last night.

And he was in the guest bedroom?

Cas.

Dread filled Dean’s chest as he realized that Cas was missing. He had been here before, right? Dean vaguely remembered waking up earlier. How long ago was that?

“Cas?” he called, wandering out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He heard noise in the kitchen.

“Here,” Cas called back. He turned as Dean entered the kitchen and winced. “I – I hope you don’t mind.” The counter in front of him had a plate, a slice of toast, and a jar of peanut butter with a knife. “I was hungry.”

“No, that’s fine,” Dean said. “I could make eggs if you want. If Sam went shopping.”

“No, I’ll be good,” Cas said, screwing the cap back on the peanut butter and rinsing the knife in the sink. “I don’t usually eat a big breakfast.”

“That’s fine,” Dean said. “I’ll just make eggs for myself.” He fished a pan out of the cupboard below the counter and set it on the stove top, turning on a burner. As he hunted for eggs and butter in the fridge, he talked absentmindedly to Cas. “I completely forgot to call the college last night. But after breakfast we can head over there. You can grab anything you need from your dorm, and I can stop by the main office and talk to whoever I need to. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Cas said, nibbling his toast as he watched Dean bustle around the kitchen.

“So start making a list,” Dean said, cracking an egg and letting it slide into the buttered pan. “I kinda wanna get in and out of there quick because –“ He trailed off awkwardly.

“Because of my brother,” Cas finished. “I know.”

The eggs sizzled in the pan, making the lapse in conversation a little less awkward.

“I don’t know what he’s gonna do,” Dean said. “Especially with the way he acted yesterday at the office.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said.

“No, it’s not fine.” Dean almost crushed the egg he was holding. “Family shouldn’t treat each other like that, Cas. Family should stick together.”

Cas stared at his shoes and didn’t say anything.

Dean winced. Maybe he had spoken too harshly. “Do you, uh, want something else to wear?” he asked, trying again. “I’m pretty sure we’re close to the same size.”

“I’ll be fine until I can grab my stuff from my dorm,” Cas said.

“You don’t even want a shower?” Dean said.

“I don’t want to use your stuff,” Cas said. “I’ll be fine for now.”

“Alright,” Dean said, giving up the discussion.

He finished cooking his eggs and at them while Cas headed to the bathroom. Dean took his time. They weren’t in any rush to get to the campus. When they got there, Dean would explain to whoever that Cas wouldn’t be attending for a couple days for family reasons. He would write a doctor’s note if that’s what it took. He wanted Cas to get plenty of rest before actually going back.

This was not the time for halfway healing. Dean wanted Cas at one hundred percent before going back to his classes.

“Ready to leave?” he called into the house, already pulling on his own coat.

“Yeah!” Cas shouted back. A moment later, he hurried down the stairs, pulling on his own coat. He shoved on his shoes and followed Dean out to his car.

“I’ll drop you off at your dorm,” Dean said as he pulled out of his driveway. “You can get whatever you need while I need to stop at the main office and leave the principal a note.”

“That’s fine,” Cas said. “I just. . . . . don’t want to stay long.”

Dean nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be as fast as I can.”

He wanted to get Cas back to a safe zone, and that sage zone was currently the guest bedroom in his house. He wanted to talk with him more, figure this out. Maybe avoid the topic of family though.

The rest of the ride to the college was quiet, no conversation. Dean put on the sports radio for white noise but neither of them was listening to it. Not really.

They were mostly concentrating on what they had to do once they got to the college. Dean was already planning what he would have to say to the principal. Perhaps he should’ve worn a more professional suit.

Cas, on the other hand, was mostly concerned about if his family would be there or not.


	10. Assignment Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the fabulous person who wanted an update ^-^ this is just for you, the real action happens in the next chapter

 

“The very last one on the left,” Cas said, pointing out the building that he stayed in. “I have a key card,” he explained as Dean pulled up to the curb.

“Do you need any help?” Dean asked as Cas climbed out.

The student shook his head. “I’ll just be throwing clothes in a bag,” he said. “And grabbing my books. Nothing big.”

“If I’m not back before you’re done,” Dean said. “I’ll be at the main office.”

Cas nodded and then shut the door. Dean made sure he got into the building before pulling away and heading to the main office building.

Yep, he was worried. He wasn’t sure what could go wrong, but there was a nagging voice in the back of his head that said something was going to happen. He didn’t like leaving Cas all by himself, especially now of all times. At the college, Dean felt particularly vulnerable. They were no longer in the safety of his office. Now, they were out in the open.

He tried to ignore his gut as he pulled around to the main entrance and parked in the visitor spaces. He grabbed Cas’s file from his bag and jumped out. He stopped at the main desk first.

“I need to speak with the principal,” he said. “Or the dean or the headmaster or whatever.”

The woman looked up at him, gave him and once-over, and turned back to her computer. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, typing something.

“No,” Dean said. “But it’s an emergency. Is there any way I could see him without one?”

“He’s in a meeting right now,” the woman said, still typing.

“How long do I have to wait?” Dean asked.

“Hm, ten minutes?” the woman offered. “If your concern is student-related, I could send you to the head of dormitories.”

“It’s concerning the health of one of your students,” Dean said. “The details are confidential, but the student will be leaving campus for a couple days.”

The secretary thought for a moment and then continued typing. “I’ll direct you to the school nurse,” she said.

Dean wasn’t sure whether to groan or sigh in relief. The nurse would have experience with Cas’s condition. Whether they would have enough influence to get as a couple days of rest, Dean wasn’t so sure of.

“Alright,” the secretary said and handed him a slip of paper. “It’s just down the hall and to the left. The door is labelled so you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, taking the slip. “And, uh, I still want to talk to the dean of students.”

“If he is free when you are done, I’ll send you in,” the woman said. Her attention was completely fixed on the computer screen as she typed. “Have a nice day.”

Dean walked away, fingering the slip of paper. True to the secretary’s word, the nurse’s office was easy to find. The sign on the door was obvious enough. Dean lifted a fist, paused, and the knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called.

Dean turned the handle and walked in, immediately spotting the woman sitting behind a desk. She straightened a stack of papers and rose to her feet with a smile, offering him a hand.

“I’m Naomi, the school nurse,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“I was told to talk to you about a student getting a medical rest period?” Dean said.

Naomi gestured for him to take a seat and then sat herself. “Which student?” she asked, dragging her keyboard a little closer.

“Uh, Castiel Shurley,” Dean said, sitting on the soft leather. It felt a bit strange to be in an office so much like his own, but this time, he wasn’t doing the talking.

“Ah, Cas,” Naomi said, typing.

“You know him?” Dean said, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“I talked with him,” Naomi said. “All last year. Twice a week.”

Dean blinked in surprise. “So you know about –?”

“Everything?” Naomi said. “Of course. Family. Emotions. Grades. Passions. Fears.”

Dean felt even more awkward.

Of course, it was stupid to think Dean was Cas’s first therapist. Or his first anything. Of course he had talked to people before Dean. Had prior relationships. It just felt . . . . . awkward. . . . . . to be sharing him. He did his best to shake off the feeling.

“Is it his grades?” Naomi asked. “Because he has a councilor specifically set aside for something like that.”

“Not his grades,” Dean said. “It’s his health.”

Naomi looked up at him with her eyebrows furrowed. “He hasn’t come to see me,” she said.

“The school referred him to me,” Dean said. “That’s the whole reason he is coming to me.”

Naomi flipped through a couple of her papers and frowned. “I did no such thing,” she said. “Hardly ever do I refer students to outside sources. The school has everything they need.”

Dean frowned as well. “His case said that he was supposed to specifically see me,” he said. “And that the school was paying for it.”

Naomi sucked in a sharp breath. “The school isn’t paying for anything like that,” she said. She spun in her chair and opened a filing cabinet, flipping through the manila envelopes and selecting one.

“That makes no sense,” Dean said. “I saw in his file –“

“His file is confidential information,” Naomi said. “And you are?”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said. “ _Dr_. Dean Winchester.”

“Well, _Doctor_ ,” Naomi said, looking him up and down with her lips curled in disgust. “You have no authority to access his information as far as I’m concerned.”

“But there was a note specifically in the college’s name!” Dean said. “How could that happen?”

“I have no idea what that was,” Naomi said, shuffling through the file. Dean could see Cas’s picture on top. “There must’ve been some mistake. I gave no authorization for Castiel to see anyone.”

Dean felt. . . . . . disappointed. Sad. He had gotten so attached to Cas.

“Oh,” he said. That was all he could think to say. What else was there?

“What where you saying about a medical rest period?” Naomi asked. “Castiel hasn’t talked to me in months.”

Because he’s been talking to me, Dean thought but held back the words.

“I want him to take a medical leave from school,” Dean said. He fell back on his doctor voice, the I’m-in-charge-and-I-have-authority voice.

“On what grounds?” Naomi asked. “You can’t just pull a student. Especially if you’re not his legal guardian.”

“He’s experiencing family sensitive issues,” Dean said, still using The Voice. “And they are affecting his health dramatically. I want him to take some time off his studies, under my supervision, and rest.”

“You can’t.”

Dean blinked.

Naomi had said it so matter-of-fact-ly that it took him by surprise. She had left no room for argument or negotiating. Just a big fat no. Right in his face.

“What do you mean?” he said. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s about Cas’s health!”

“If Castiel has a problem,” Naomi said. “He should have come to the college health office. He pays for our insurance and health care. Not yours.”

Dean gritted his teeth and dug into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He fished out his therapist I.D. card, grimacing at its wrinkled edges. He hadn’t thought he would need it and hadn’t really taken care of it. Oh well.

“I’m a licensed therapist,” he said, showing Naomi the card. “And Cas has been seeing me. I’ve read through his medical file multiple times and have talked with him extensively. I’m not through the college, but Cas turned to me for help when he needed it. And I would like to pull him out on a medical leave.”

Naomi set her mouth in a thin line, studying the card and then his face.

“If it matters,” Dean continued. “I have been getting paid. If it isn’t through the college, I don’t know where the money is coming from, but every week without fail, I know it’s there in my bank account.”

Naomi sighed and gave him one last once over. “Very well,” she said, snapping Cas’s file shut and setting it aside. “I’ll let you do it.”

“Two weeks,” Dean said, shoving his card back in his pocket.

“Two weeks,” Naomi agreed. “But I expect regular phone calls and updates. I have a right to know what is going on.”

“I keep my patient’s cases confidential,” Dean said. “But I’ll tell you what I can.”

Naomi nodded stiffly. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll fill out the forms for you, but I expect a call.”

Dean nodded and retreated outside the office, finally taking a full breath.

That was one boundary covered. Now, to tackle everything else.


	11. Assignment Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning: harsh language ahead, things get heated. Enjoy nonetheless ^-^

 

Cas was waiting in the car when Dean finally walked out of the main office.

“Well,” Dean said, sliding into the driver’s seat and shoving the key into the ignition. “I did it. You’ve got two weeks off.”

Cas was clutching a bulging backpack protectively. “I’ll still have to do my homework,” he said but smiled. “But it’ll be nice to rest.”

“Damn right,” Dean said, smiling as he maneuvered around the parking lot. “And if you need any tutoring, I’m sure Sam can help you out.” That was a little iffy. Dean wasn’t sure how much a law degree intersected with an entomology degree. If worse came to worse, Dean could surf the internet.

“Don’t go fast here,” Cas warned suddenly, and Dean slowed down. “The security guards will jump out in front of you if you’re speeding, just to give you a ticket.”

“Wow,” Dean said. He went even slower now. “They’re dedicated, aren’t they?”

“The head of students promised it they raised enough money this year they could get new jackets,” Cas said. “So they’ve been handing out tickets left and right this entire semester.”

Dean snorted. “Jerk wads.”

Cas only shrugged. “I don’t have a car.”

“Well,” Dean said, carefully turning a corner to avoid clipping a curb. “They are still jerks.”

He suddenly slammed on the brakes as someone jumped out in front of the car. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Cas jerk forward in his seat due to momentum. Dean winced as the car rocked back and came to a final stop.

“What the hell?” he snapped. Beside him, Cas was wide-eyed.

“You thought you could just walk away, bitch?” a familiar, dreaded voice yelled. It was Luce, his hair wild and his clothes wrinkled. Like he hadn’t gotten any sleep. He slammed a fist against the hood of Dean’s car. “Huh?!” he yelled. “You think you can just take my family away from me?!”

“Oh no,” Cas whispered, sinking low in his seat.

“I can’t believe this,” Dean muttered. “Doesn’t he know when to quit?”

“I should just go with him,” Cas said.

Dean grabbed his shoulder to keep him in place.

“Hell no,” Dean said.

“Get out here!” Luce shouted, kicking the front tire. “I’m going to kick your ass, Doctor!” He stormed around to the driver’s side, slamming a fist against the window. “Give me my brother back!”

Dean snapped off his seat belt and jerked his door open, shoving Luce back so he could climbed out.

“Back off,” he ordered. He tried to make himself sound authoritative, like he was telling a dog to back down. He slammed his door shut, giving Cas one last look. He wanted to reassure him. He looked so broken sitting there.

“That’s my family,” Luce snarled.

Dean looked up just in time to see a fist, and then his head snapped to the left as it connected with his cheek. He stumbled under the blow but recovered quickly enough. He ducked under the next swing, surprised how quickly his old instincts took over. He hadn’t been the best example in high school.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Luce said, his lips curling in a cruel snarl.

“Don’t do this,” Dean said. He had his fists up to defend himself but he didn’t really want to exchange blows.

“You stole my family!” Luce said, taking another swing at Dean’s face. “You _stole_ him from me!”

“I didn’t steal him!” Dean said, jerking away to avoid the blow. “He needed the help, and I gave it to him.”

Luce was scowling at him, the fury of hell blazing in his eyes. “He. Didn’t. Need. Anything,” he said, spitting each word out. “I know _exactly_ how to take care of _my_ family. Without strangers like you interfering.”

Dean swallowed hard and curled his hands into tight fists. He glanced briefly back at Cas who was hunched in the passenger seat, shivering. He turned back to Luce, who was starting to look less and less threatening. His hair was a mess, plastered down across his forehead or sticking up in the back. He didn’t look so calm and collected like he had back at the office the first time he had tried to get Cas back.

And Dean felt his chest go hot with a burning desire to protect. To protect Cas from anything and everything.

And suddenly, he wasn’t scared anymore.

He drew himself up to his full height which brought him eye to eye with Luce. He narrowed his eyes and without giving it much thought, slammed his fist into Luce’s jaw.

The pain was what shocked him. It traveled up his knuckles, down to his elbow, and into his shoulder, making him gasp. He had never truly punched anyone before. Sure, he had gotten into fist fights in high school – what kid hadn’t? But those didn’t seem real. It was mostly big talk and inflated egos. Nothing like this.

Luce went down immediately, dropping like a bag of rocks. He rolled across the concrete, clutching at his face, spitting curses and swear words like a sailor.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” he snarled. He pushed himself back to his feet, and Dean finally could see the blood leaking between his fingers.

Damn. Had he done that?

“No,” he said. “No, you’re not. I am taking Cas, and we are leaving.” He took a deep breath and flexed his hand, still throbbing from the punch.

“I’m going to fucking end your existence,” Luce said, spitting out a glob of blood.

“Excuse us. Is there something we should know?”

Dean and Luce both turned, staring at the two campus security guards. They were clearly two students but concerned about the fight that was clearly happening in the parking lot of the campus they were supposed to be patrolling. They looked young and fresh-faced, not ready to actually deal with conflict. Still, Dean had to give them props for speaking up when they did.

“This is none of your business,” Luce said. Blood was trickling down his chin, making his words unconvincing.

The guards started walking towards them, hands going to their hips to palm their standard issue pepper spray. “Sirs, please step away from each other,” one said. “We need an explanation for what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” Luce said. “Nothing is going on. Back off.”

The guards looked to Dean now, raising their eyebrows. Dean didn’t really know what to say. _This man is attacking me._ No, that didn’t make any sense. _This man is preventing me from leaving._ Okay, so what?

“I was just leaving,” he said instead, leveling a challenging gaze at Luce, daring him to object.

He didn’t.

Dean climbed back into his car, glancing worriedly at Cas. He wished he could make sure he was alright but getting him away from Luce seemed like the best option at the moment. He shifted his car into drive and eased on the gas, pulling around Luce who still refuses to move from the middle of the road.

He glared after them, but with the guards watching, he didn’t dare make a move.

“I am so sorry,” Cas mumbled. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so sorry.”

“Sshh,” Dean coaxed, sighing in relief as they finally pulled off campus. “Everything will be okay. Luce can’t get to you now.”

Cas hugged his backpack tight to his chest and whimpered, hunching down low.

“We’re going home, Cas,” Dean said. “Just hold on until then.”

He gripped the wheel tight as he maneuvered through traffic. He was stupid to think that Luce wouldn’t show up. He had probably been scouting the college for hours before they showed up, waiting for the perfect moment he could get his brother back. Dean felt a swell of possessiveness rise in his chest. Two and a half months he had known Cas, had talked with him and had gotten to know him.

Two and a half months couldn’t be for nothing.

They didn’t say anything the rest of the ride home. Dean didn’t even bother turning on the radio. Cas buried his face in his backpack. When Dean glanced at him, he couldn’t see any tears, and it didn’t sound like he was crying either. That was good at least. He finally broke the silence as he pulled into the driveway.

“Do you need help carrying anything in?”

Cas wordlessly handed over his book bag and took the one stuffed with clothes for himself. Dean led the way inside, dropping the backpack on the couch.

“Hungry?” he asked.

Cas flopped onto the couch and held his head in his hands. “I’m going to throw up,” he murmured.

Dean grabbed him an empty ice cream bucket and then draped a blanket over his trembling shoulders. He then gave him space, retreating back to the kitchen. He washed the blood from his knuckles, wincing as he flexed his hand. It still hurt from the punch. He then washed his face in case there was blood there too. He made cups of tea just because he wanted something to do and took them back to the living room.

Cas was still on the couch, curled up with his knees to his chest. He was no longer tense. Instead, his head lolled to the side, his eyes were closed, and his breathing was steady.

“I have tea,” Dean said softly, not sure if he should wake him up. Maybe sleeping was better for him.

Cas’s eyes opened and he sat up, eagerly reaching for the mug. When Dean handed it over, he blew on it once before gulping it down.

“Easy,” Dean said, not wanting Cas to burn his mouth. He was distracted when his cell phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket, relieved to see Sam’s name on the screen. “What’s up?” he asked, accepting the call and bringing it to his ear.

“Do you put your name on your business cards?” Sam asked.

Dean frowned, thinking. “Um, no? Well, kinda. I think it just says Doctor Winchester. Why?”

Sam sighed. “Because there is a Shurley here and he’s been following me around my classes all day. And he won’t leave me along. Does this have anything to do with you?”

Dean swallowed, glancing at Cas still curled around his tea. He then thought of Luce who they had left bleeding in the college parking lot.

“Son of a bitch.”


	12. Assignment Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proceed with caution. I want to warn anyone who has a history of self harm; this chapter will be rough.

 

There was no point in hiding the information from Cas, so Dean told him outright. “Your brother is at Sam’s school.”

Cas looked up from his half empty cup of tea, frowning. “Luce?” he asked.

“That’s who I think,” Dean said. “Sam just called –“

“Just called?” Cas repeated and shook his head. “No, Luce was at my college. It has to be someone else. Did. . . . . . . did Sam describe him?”

“No,” Dean said. “Cas, are you sure you want to let him come here? After what Luce did? I’m not gonna let that happen again.”

“I know,” Cas said. “But, it’s just – let me talk to Sam. It might not be bad after all.”

“How could it not be bad?” Dean asked. He couldn’t help but feel irritated. He didn’t want Cas to be hurt by his family and yet, Cas wanted to turn to his brother. “Cas, I don’t want to see you hurt,” he blurted.

Cas smiled, slightly strained and a big contrast to his red eyes. “I have a lot of siblings, remember?” he said. “They aren’t all bad. Trust me. I grew up with them.”

Dean reluctantly handed over the phone, watching Cas hit redial and bring the phone to his ear. He swallowed and decided he should give Cas some privacy and headed back to the kitchen. He forced himself not to listen as Cas greeted Sam cheerfully and asked about his brother.

Instead, he tried to distract himself by cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. He was so focused in scrubbing burnt eggs off a pan, trying to ignore his red, inflamed knuckles. He had been so absorbed in the task that he jumped when Cas touched his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said, offering Dean’s phone back. He still had the blanket around his shoulders and bags under his eyes. He looked tired.

“No, it’s fine,” Dean said, drying his hands before pocketing his phone. “Um, what did Sam say?”

Cas smiled. “It’s not Luce,” he said. “It’s, uh, another one of my brothers, older. He must’ve gotten the wrong Winchester.”

Dean wasn’t sure if this was good or bad but Cas was laughing. So, he offered an unsure smile as well.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Gabe,” Cas said. “He’s – well, he’s something else. I talked with him a little and told him what’s going on.”

“About Luce?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. “No, about . . . . . you. I just told him the gist. Where I’m staying, what I’m doing. I told Sam he could bring him here if he wanted.”

“Is this going to be. . . . . okay?” Dean asked. He didn’t want a repeat of Luce at the office. He didn’t want Cas to be hurt like that again. He wouldn’t be able to take it. He would be punching more people if Gabe was anything like Luce.

“Gabe is nice,” Cas said. “Just a little annoying. From what I could hear, Sam was getting a little fed up.” He glanced down at his shoes, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. “Um, I told Sam he could bring Gabe here. After school that is.”

Dean clenched his jaw and fists without thinking before forcing himself to relax. “Okay,” he said. “But if. . . . . Gabe does anything like Luce did –“

“He won’t!” Cas quickly assured, looking back up. “It’s alright. I promise!”

“I believe you,” Dean said and glanced at the clock. “How do you feel about food?”

“Better,” Cas said. “Maybe something small?”

“What do you feel like eating?” Dean asked. “I could scrape something together or call out for food. Chinese? Mexican? Pizza?”

“Oh, sandwiches are fine,” Cas said. “I can help. Where do you put your plates?”

Dean put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “No, I got it,” he said. “Are you allergic to anything? Or don’t eat anything?”

“Red meat,” Cas said. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Dean said, bending to look in the fridge. He discarded the sliced roast beef and grabbed the chicken instead. “Mayo?”

“Sure,” Cas said.

Dean bustled around the kitchen, grabbing plates and cups and making the sandwiches. He filled the cups with ice and water, giving Cas his so he didn’t have to stand there too awkwardly. He grabbed lettuce and tomatoes as well, pausing to ask Cas if he was okay with both. He was. Dean laid generous amounts of chicken on both sandwiches, stacking them high.

“Done,” he said, passing one plate off to Cas.

“Thank you,” Cas said.

Dean tried no to stare as Cas picked up the sandwich and took a bite. He still had a twinge of worry over his patient’s diet. He had been so tight lipped about it during their sessions. But Cas ate with gusto, quickly eating the sandwich and draining the glass of water before Dean had finished half of his. He set his plate aside and brushed crumbs from his hands.

“Do you want another one?” Dean asked.

Cas ducked his head. “No, I’m good,” he said. He carried his plate to the sink and rinsed it, setting it to dry in the rack off to one side.

Dean thought about insisting but held himself back. “How about chips?” he asked instead. “Or fruit? Sam always has the fruit drawer full. I’m sure there’s something.”

Cas looked reluctant to nod so Dean opened the fridge and rooted around in Sam’s fruit drawer. He pulled out an apple and a banana, the two that he recognized and could be eaten relatively easily, and offered them to Cas. He chose the banana so Dean returned the apple and went back to his sandwich.

“I have some work to do after lunch,” Dean said. “You’re welcome to the TV if you want.”

“I have homework,” Cas said. “I’ll probably just do that.”

“Alright,” Dean said. He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and set his plate in the sink. “Well, I’ll be up in my office if you need me. Upstairs and to the left, right across from the guest – your bedroom.”

Cas didn’t acknowledge the change. Instead, he nodded and disappeared back into the living room, munching on his banana. Dean chewed his lip but decided to give him some space. Besides, Dean wanted to talk to Naomi about Luce on campus. He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer, setting it on his knuckles as he walked up the stairs to his office. He breathed in the familiar smell and sank into his leather chair, tipping his head back with a sigh.

Fuck the world.

 

*~*

 

When Sam finally came home from school, he had a jumpy, hyperactive man following him. Dean had a hard time believing he and Cas were related in the first place. Of course, Cas had mentioned that his dad had had many different spouses. Perhaps they had different mothers?

He introduced himself as Gabriel, Gabe for short. Sam muttered something about him being unable to shut up and retreated to the kitchen. Gabe was beaming like a kid in a candy store but as soon as Sam disappeared, he lost the façade.

“How’s Cas?” he asked softly. All joking and humor had left his brown eyes as he turned completely serious.

Dean instinctively straightened and moved himself to block the hall. “Cas is doing fine,” he said.

Gabe gave him an are-you-stupid face. “Luce went rushing out of the house a couple days ago, and the rest of us all heard the voice recording. Cas told us he was seeing you, and I’m not stupid.”

“Yeah, and Luce nearly ruined everything when he barged into my office,” Dean snapped.

“Do I look like my older brother?” Gabe asked, a hint of sarcasm entering his voice. “Cas and I are close. I’m not going to ‘ruin’ anything.”

“Gabe.”

Both Dean and Gabe turned when Cas spoke. The black haired college student stood at the end of the hall, nervously fiddling with his sleeves. His eyes darted between Dean and Gabe, silently asking if everything was okay or not.

“Cas!” Gabe explained, pushing passed Dean and grabbing Cas in a tight hug. “How’s my favorite little brother doing?”

Cas closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace, hugging Gabe back. Dean felt a twinge of jealousy and then felt stupid. They were brothers. Of course they hugged.

“Can we talk in the living room?” Cas asked, finally ending the hug and stepping back. He glanced guiltily at Dean and then down at his shoes. “Alone?”

“Of course,” Gabe said, already pushing him down the hall.

Dean couldn’t protest so he joined Sam in the kitchen. His brother was munching on an apple, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up when Dean walked in.

“That Cas’s brother?” he said.

Dean nodded. “Apparently,” he said. “They’re talking in the living room.”

“Well, he’s goddamn annoying,” Sam said, not picking up on Dean’s irritation. “Wouldn’t stop talking. Wouldn’t stop asking questions. I sat in the back of every one of my classes because he kept poking me and wanting to discuss the lecture.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Dean said. “Discussion?”

“Not when I have a big test coming up on the subject,” Sam said. “It’s distracting. I needed to take notes and all he wanted to do was doodle on the corners of my papers.”

“He’s alone with Cas,” Dean murmured.

Sam set his apple core aside. “Hey, it’ll be fine, I’m sure,” he said. “Gabe seems nice. I mean, I never met Luce but he seems like a better person. He won’t try anything. Not with you so close by.”

“Luce did,” Dean whispered.

San grabbed his arm, making him look up in surprise. They didn’t usually touch each other. They talked plenty, deep emotional talks but never touching. Sam’s hazel eyes were wide with concern as he stared down.

“I don’t understand this,” he said. “I didn’t go to school for therapy; you did. But I can see how you’re stretching yourself. I can see how much you care. That much is obvious.”

“I want to save Cas,” Dean said. “I just want – to help him.”

“There’s only so much you can do,” Sam said. “Cas has to save himself. You can help, but it will all come down to Cas.”

A choked sob came from the living room, making Dean stiffen. He yanked himself from Sam’s grip and bolted out of the room. Bolting for Cas. Sam’s call of “Dean, wait!” didn’t stop him from bursting into the living room, ready to tear Gabe away, punch him if need be. His knuckles throbbed as if to remind him he had done just that several hours ago already.

But Gabe wasn’t hurting Cas. He didn’t have his arm twisted or their faces inches apart. He gently cradled Cas’s wrist, the sleeve of his sweater pushed up to his elbow. Cas’s head was bowed and he was crying softly as Gabe stroked his fingers over the rows and rows or red, angry scars.

Cas jerked up when Dean entered and snatched his arm back from Gabe, quickly tugging down his sleeve. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and stepped away from Gabe who looked hurt and was shooting angry glances at Dean.

“Cas,” Dean said. He couldn’t move. He wanted to rush to his side. He wanted to cry. His heart was broken.

“I’m sorry,” Cas blurted and jerked away, rushing out of the room, up the stairs, and to his bedroom, shutting the door with a slam.

Dean wanted to run after him, but Gabe stepped in the way. His humor was gone now, replaced by a thunderous rage. He was inches shorter than Dean with less muscle and more fat, but he was a compacted ball of rage as he stood between Dean and the stairs. He even raised his arms to block off the sides.

“Back off,” he spat.

“I need to go help him,” Dean snapped back.

“Give him space,” Gabe ordered back. “He doesn’t want anyone right now. Let him rest and recover and then you can talk.”

“He needs someone _now_ ,” Dean insisted. “Please! I’m his therapist!”

“And what are you going to do?” Gabe said. “What do you really know about him? That he has black hair? That he has blue eyes? You don’t know about his scars; you probably don’t know _anything_.”

“Please,” Dean begged. “I know about the bees . . . . I know every little fact he tells me. About how he relates to them so well. I know about how he said ‘fuck you’ to a stranger. Hell, I’m the one who encouraged him. I . . . . . I frickin’ _punched_ Luce in the face today. Please. Please, can I see him?”

Gabe wavered. Dean could see it in his eyes and the way he bit his lip, his arms lowering an inch and a half.

“He _knows_ me,” Dean said. “I’ve talked with him for three months now. No, I don’t know everything about him. I don’t know every scar on his body or every reason he cries, but I _want_ to. I want to know him that well. Will you . . . . . will you let me?”

Gabe narrowed his eyes slightly, contemplating him a moment longer. His gaze was harsh, scalding, judgmental. Dean kept himself strong. It felt awkward to have Cas’s brother judging whether or not he was allowed to talk with Cas. Honestly, it should be Cas deciding that. Finally, Gabe lowered his arms but the hatred in his eyes didn’t fade.

“Fine,” he said. “But I swear, I will cut off your junk if you hurt him. I will hurt you just as much as you hurt him.”

Dean swallowed and nodded. He had no intention of hurting Cas. He would kill anyone who did that. He rushed up the stairs and stopped in front of the bedroom door. He strained his tears but couldn’t hear anything. He raised a fist, paused, and gently knocked.

“Cas?” he asked. “It’s me. It’s . . . fine. No one is angry at you.” He let out a shaky breath. “Can I come in?”

There was no answer.

“Cas, I want to help you,” Dean said. “Please, can I come in?”

Still no answer.

Dean gulped and squeezed the doorknob, gently turning it and easing it open.

Cas was sitting on the bed, both his sleeves shoved up as far as they would go. He was scratching at his scars furiously, tearing at the just-healing scabs with his nails. Already, his wrists and hands were bloody, but he jerked when Dean entered, eyes flooding with fear as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said, frantically tugging his sleeves back down, trying to cover the damage. “I’m good. I’m good. I’m sorry.”

Dean couldn’t think of anything to say. He crossed the room in two steps and grabbed Cas in a tight hug, pulling him as close as humanly possible and then closer. He could feel his own throat and eyes burning as tears fought their way to the surface.

“Don’t apologize, Cas,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “Don’t. I got you.”


	13. Assignment Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned, anyone who has a history of selfharm, please proceed with caution

 

Dean eventually got Cas to lay down on the bed and they lay there together, Cas resting on top of his chest with his face hidden in the fabric of his shirt. They didn’t talk. Dean’s fingers were itching to pull back Cas’s sleeves and address the cuts underneath. Already, red blotches were soaking through the fabric. Dean knew they couldn’t leave them forever, and he certainly couldn’t ignore them now that he knew.

“Cas,” he whispered. “We need to get up. I need to bandage your arms.”

Cas stiffened, gripping him tighter. “No,” he said. His voice was quiet and shaky. “No, no, no. Don’t look at them.”

“Cas, it’s alright, I don’t want to talk about them,” Dean said. “But they are bleeding and need to be treated.”

Cas was shivering violently but didn’t protest as Dean sat them up and slowly pulled away. Cas wouldn’t meet his gaze, so Dean gently picked up his limp hands and turned them over. Cas was still shivering, leg bouncing up and down and up and down and up and down.

“I’m going to roll up your sleeves now,” Dean said, not wanting to scare Cas. “I just need to see how bad it is and then I’m going to get disinfectant and band aids. Alright?”

Cas didn’t give any sign that he had heard except a soft twitch of his fingers. Dean started on the left wrist, gently peeling back the blood soaked fabric. He rolled it as slowly as he could, uncovering inch by inch of Cas’s arm. The aggravated red cuts were particularly inflamed from Cas’s scratching and some were peeled open. Layer upon layer of them covered Cas’s wrist and forearm. And they kept going up. Even when Dean reached the elbow, he could see there were still more higher up.

“Now your right,” Dean murmured.

He carefully shifted his grip and began rolling up Cas’s other sleeve. This arm told the same story as the other: layers and layers of scars one on top of the other, now red and angry with congealed blood all sticky and goopy. He got it halfway up when Cas finally seemed to jump out of his stupor. His eyes focused, and he flinched when they settled on Dean.

“No,” he said, jerking away are trying to roll his sleeves back down. “Get off me. Don’t touch me! Stop!”

Dean leaned with him, trying to catch Cas’s shaking hands and stop them as they tried to hide the damage. “It’s okay, Cas,” he said. “It’s fine, just calm down. Deep breaths for me.”

“Don’t touch me!” Cas screamed, jumping up from his seat and shoving Dean’s hands away. “Don’t touch me! Stop!” He was clawing at himself again, and Dean winced as he tore at the skin and new blood beaded on the surface.

“Cas, stop,” he begged, slowly getting to his feet as well. “Cas, please, look at me. Don’t do this.”

“It hurts,” Cas sobbed as he itched and itched and itched. “It hurts, god, it hurts, it hurts.”

“Cas, look at me,” Dean said, inching forward. “Cas, please, look at me. Everything is going to be fine. I want to help you, Cas, will you let me help you?”

“Don’t touch me,” Cas said, shuddering and curling his shoulders up, doubling over as he clutched his arms close. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, sobbing. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

Dean swallowed and wondered, briefly, if Gabe could hear them from downstairs. If so, he was most likely going to come stomping up here, making everything worse than it already was. Or maybe Sam would hold him back. Dean stopped thinking about them. Cas was the number one priority here. No one else.

“I’m just going to the bathroom, okay?” Dean said. “Just for a moment. I’m going to turn the water on. Cas, do you hear me? I’m going to be right back.”

Cas gave no indication he heard, only shivered harder. Dean edged around him carefully and then slipped out the door, hurrying to the bathroom to turn on the shower. He grabbed a washcloth and dunked it under the cold stream of water but froze when he heard the smash of glass breaking.

Cas.

He bolted out of the bathroom, dropping the cloth at some point. Maybe the hallway? He didn’t know. He burst into the bedroom to find Cas on the floor, surrounded by the shattered remains of the broken lamp. He was still sobbing, a particularly large wedge of glass already halfway gouged into his arm. Harsh red blood flowed freely down in between his fingers, splattering onto the floor.

“Cas!” Dean shouted, rushing to his side. He grabbed him, hauling him up and away from the mess.

Cas started kicking and screaming as soon as Dean touched him, thrashing about and demanding that Dean “put me down! Put me down! Don’t touch me! Put me down!” Dean gritted his teeth against Cas’s flailing fists and half dragged, half carried him to the bathroom where the shower sprayed cold mist into the air. He shivered at the temperature but Cas didn’t react, only struggling harder.

“Get off!” he snarled between gritted teeth. He was panting hard. If he kept this up, he would wear himself out fast. “Stop it! Get off me! Don’t touch!”

“Breathe, Cas,” Dean begged, struggling to avoid the harsh porcelain corners of the counter as he maneuvered them into the bathtub.

He gasped in surprise as Cas sank his teeth into his arm, and it took all his self-control not to shove Cas away. Instead, he gripped him tighter and finally – thank god, finally – got Cas into the tub and under the sharp spray of freezing water. Cas gasped and sputtered but stopped fighting, slumping into Dean’s arms as the water slowly soaked into their clothes.

“Don’t touch me,” he protested stubbornly, panting from exhaustion. He was quiet though, barely whispering. “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Just breathe, Cas,” Dean said. He was just as tired from the fight.

He dared to loosen his grip a little, and Cas bucked with renewed vigor. Dean grunted as they struggled and then went down with a crash. Cas landed on him, thank god, and that seemed to be the last of his energy and he finally went limp against Dean’s chest, sobbing and whimpering and mewling. The water soaked them through and ran down the drain, tinged slightly pink. Dean carefully exposed Cas’s arms to the water, knowing the temperature would numb the nerves and reduce the urge to itch or cut. Cas didn’t even protest to the treatment, too tired apparently. Dean stroked his wet bangs away from his forehead and spoke quietly to him.

“It’s okay, Cas,” he said. “Sshh, it’s okay. Just rest. Close your eyes and rest. I’ve got you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Cas whimpered. “Don’t touch me,” he whispered one last time, fingers twitching in Dean’s grip, like he wanted to lash out one last time but couldn’t fine the energy. And then he relaxed against Dean’s chest and sobbed.

Dean held him close, keeping his arms out so that most of the water hit them. The skin was pink now, less red and angry. The pearly white scars protruded with the cold, becoming ridges and valleys. Dean wanted to kiss them away. He wanted to kiss away all of Cas’s tears. He tipped his head back and let the freezing water wash the feeling away and carry it down the drain.


	14. Assignment Fourteen

Cas fell asleep, even under the spray of water. Dean managed to keep his face out of it for the most part too. Eventually, the water grew too cold to bear, and Dean, with his teeth chattering, fumbled to turn the water off and grab a towel to cover him and Cas. It was twice as hard getting Cas out of the tub as it had been to get him in. His clothes were water-logged and his arms and legs limp. He groaned as little as Dean maneuvered him, briefly coming awake.

“Sshh,” Dean coaxed. “It’s okay, Cas. It’s just me. You can sleep.”

Cas grabbed tight fistfuls of Dean’s shirt, his fingers locking with the cold. He hung from Dean in a manner similar to a koala and whimpered as Dean moved, burying his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“That’s it,” Dean said, stumbling out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, wincing as he dripped water everywhere.

He awkwardly bent to try to lay Cas down on the bed, but Cas refused to let go of him, whimpering when Dean tried to uncurl his fingers. He clung even tighter when Dean tried to push him away. His skin was like ice wherever it touched Dean, making him shiver.

“Cas, we need to get you out of those clothes,” he said. “It’s too wet and cold.”

Cas murmured something. Dean didn’t quite catch it.

"I’m going to change you, alright?” he said.

Cas nodded into his shoulder, and Dean took that as a sign of consent. Still, he went slowly. He slipped the hem of Cas’s water-logged sweater up to his shoulders and carefully over his head, pulling it down his arms and gently over his hands which he was able to coax open for a brief moment. Then came Cas’s undershirt. Dean winced when he saw the older, less angry scars that adorned Cas’s ribs and hips, a sign that his arms showed only part of his pain. Dean gently eased the buttons of Cas’s jeans open and slid down the zipper. Cas didn’t react, and his breathing had evened out, signaling that he had most likely fallen back asleep. Dean gently eased him up and slid the jeans down, careful not to take his boxers with them. This was work, he told himself. Nothing more. Cas could get sick if he stayed in his wet clothes.

Even so.

Dean couldn’t stop himself from taking a moment to brush his fingers over the scars on Cas’s thighs. They looked to be the oldest and were probably where Cas started. Dean tried to imagine being desperate, sad, _lonely_ enough to draw a blade across his skin. How much pain. He couldn’t imagine it.

He settled Cas down on the bed, managing to pry his fingers away without waking him. He pulled Cas’s socks off last and bundled the blankets around his naked body. He was starting to shiver again, the cold finally catching up with him, and his teeth chattered against each other. Dean bundled him up the best he could, tucking the blankets in so that they couldn’t be knocked free. Once he was sure Cas was comfortable, he set about removing his own soaked clothing, stripping down to his boxers and gathering it all together and carrying it out of the room. He didn’t want to be gone for long, taking just enough time to grab bandages and antibiotics from the bathroom.

Cas was still asleep when he returned but shivering even worse. Dean peeled back the blankets and worked one of Cas’s arms free, gently massaging the medicine into the open cuts and then wrapping them thoroughly. He repeated the process with his other arm, furrowing his forehead when Cas’s shivering still hadn’t soothed, even a little. Dean set the medicine and left over bandages on the floor and after a moment of hesitation, crawled under the blankets too.

He nestled up next to Cas and wrapped his arms around him, pressing themselves together as close as he could. Cas sighed in his sleep, relaxing unconsciously into the embrace. His shivering calmed a bit too. Dean pulled the blankets tight around him, keeping their body heat trapped the best he could.

He let himself relax against Cas, resting his chin on the back of his neck and his head on the pillow. Cas’s breathing was significantly slower and more calm now. Dean had a hard time believing that just minutes ago Cas had been hyperventilating. He seemed so small without his bulky sweaters and jeans, all curled up in Dean’s arms. Small but not broken. Still alive. And if the scars on his arms, legs, and ribs said anything about him, he was definitely still fighting.

Dean fell asleep without meaning to.

 

*~*

 

Dean was woken by an elbow to his stomach, a slap to his face, and then a kick to his crotch. He yelped at the last blow, rolling off the bed with a crash and clutching between his legs, gritting his teeth.

“What are you doing?!” Cas demanded, yanking the blankets towards him as he scrambled off the opposite side of the bed. He bunched them in front of his body, concentrating more on hiding his arms and legs than anything else, Dean noticed. “You’re a—you’re a—you’re a _pervert_!”

“No, Cas, that wasn’t what I was doing!” Dean said, scrambling to his feet as he tried to explain.

Oh boy. He now realized how bad the situation looked. They were both nearly naked. And they had both been cuddled up in the same bed. Dean could lose his license—be convicted and arrested and thrown in jail—if Cas wanted. It was illegal to take advantage of a patient, unethical. He was supposed to help them not try to get in their bed. He was stupid!

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “Look, I’m leaving!” He edged around the bed, trying to get to the door.

Cas back away further, gathering more of the protection. “Get out!” he said. “Get away from me!”

“I am!” Dean said and finally managed to slip out the door, easing it shut and leaning on it. He could hear Cas moving around through the wood, probably searching for clothes. Dean was about to crack the door open and offer advice when Gabe came hurtling up the stairs, eyes blurry with sleep and hair going every direction. He had clearly just woken up, but his eyes flamed with anger when he saw Dean.

“What did you do?!” he snarled, balling his hands into fists and starting to swing. “I’m going to make you eat your balls!”

“Geez, stop!” Dean said, having to dodge out of the way as Gabe rushed him. “Stop! I didn’t _do_ anything!”

“Oh yeah?” Gabe said. “Then what are these?!” He grabbed at Dean’s boxers, and Dean had to jerk his hips away, placing one hand on Gabe’s chest to hold him off.

“It. Was. Nothing,” Dean enunciated. “If you’ll listen—“

Gabe slapped him.

And then tried to slap him again, but Dean had longer arms and a height advantage and was able to hold him far enough away.

“You pompous, entitled pretty boy!” Gabe said, bouncing on his toes and swiping at him. His voice was getting louder and louder. “You over-stuffed, mud-eating ape! You half-hearted dick monkey! You yellow-bellied—Sam! What was that insult from your reading class? Bull’s pizzle! That’s what you are! A bull’s pizzle!”

“Gabriel, get off him!” Sam said, bounding up the stairs.

His hair was just as messy, signaling that Gabe had indeed woken the entire house. Sam grabbed Gabe by the back of his shirt and easily yanked him off Dean, tossing him back but not hard enough to cause damage. Dean balked at the action. Sam was usually a pretty passive guy, and he sometimes forgot he was over six foot and built like a football player despite never getting involved in sports. Sam now stood between them, eyeing Gabe like he was a bad puppy that had messed on the floor.

“Get back downstairs,” Sam said, jabbing a finger in the designated direction. “I have three exams coming up and you have the _balls_ to wake me up on a Saturday. Leave Dean alone. Go make coffee.”

Gabe leveled one last glare at Dean before slinking downstairs. Apparently a fight with Sam wasn’t worth the effort. A good choice. He was barely half Sam’s size. Dean swallowed when Sam turned to him.

“I swear I wasn’t doing anything,” he said, feeling awkward that he was defending himself while wearing nothing but underwear.

“I believe you,” Sam said, cutting off his explanation. He looked just as annoyed at him that he had at Gabe. “But, come on, Dean. You should know better. I don’t know what being a therapist means but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean sleeping naked with your clients. I’m gonna go get coffee now that I’m up.”

“It was just sleeping!” Dean said as Sam turned and started down the stairs. “At least I don’t have to take a reading class in college!”

“It was Shakespearean Lit,” Sam called back. “And Gabe called you a bull’s dick, so don’t laugh at me.”

Dean sighed and leaned back against the wall, covering his face with his hands. He groaned and was about to berate himself for being so stupid when the bedroom door eased open and Cas darted out. He had wrapped himself in the sheets like a full length robe, bunching it tight at his neck to make sure it covered everything. Dean was about to call out to him, but Cas didn’t spare him a single glance, hurrying down the stairs as quiet as a ghost. Looking like one too. Dean pushed off the wall, about to hurry after him when he remembered he still didn’t have any pants. He stopped by his bedroom to grab sweatpants and a t-shirt and finally making his way to the kitchen.

By the smell of it, Gabe had indeed made coffee. Strong coffee. And unless he could cook as good as he could insult, it smelled like Sam had started some eggs. Dean hesitantly peeked around corners, looking for Cas or at least any sign of him. He finally spotted him in the living room. His travel bag was ripped open and rummaged through, and Cas was wearing jeans and a thick, baggy sweater. He was sitting close to Gabe, who had a protective arm wrapped around him. Gabe glared when Dean dared to take one step forward and whispered something to Cas whose gaze popped up and his eyes widened. He immediately brought his knees to his chest and shifted closer to Gabe. Dean winced and took that as an obvious sign that he wasn’t welcome. So he retreated to the kitchen, to help Sam with the scrambled eggs.

“Sorry about this morning,” he said as he got a stack of plates down from the cupboard. “I know you have college and stuff. It’s just—this is awkward for all of us, I think, and as we all adjust, I think it’s important that—“

“You’re doing it,” Sam said, interrupting him. He didn’t stop stirring the eggs that were cooking on the stove top though. “You’re using your therapist voice. Don’t do that to me. I’m not one of your patients. I understand that you are just trying to do your job, but even I can see that this is some shaky ground. Are you sure what you’re doing is okay?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Dean said, drawing himself up to his full height at the accusation. “Sam, I gotta help Cas.”

“Are you helping him?” Sam asked. The eggs were done and he started scooping them onto the different plates. “I mean, Dean, did you look at him this morning? He’s scared to death. Didn’t even say anything to me, just went straight to Gabe and got dressed. Hasn’t said anything since. _Maybe_ whispered to Gabe I think, but nothing out loud.”

Dean felt his throat tighten, and he tried to swallow the ball but it didn’t help. He abandoned his task of getting forks and spoons and instead walked back out to the living room. Cas flinched as soon as he entered, ducking behind Gabe. He wouldn’t meet Dean’s gaze, instead studying his hands as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing. Dean didn’t have to look at Gabe to know he was glaring at him. He sighed and hurried to the coat room, grabbing his jacket off the hook and shoving on his tennis shoes. He grabbed his keys from the coat pocket and walked out the door, trying not to think of the fear that had bloomed in Cas’s eyes at the sight of him. He gritted his teeth as he started the impala and backed out of the driveway, gunning the engine as he sped off down the street.


	15. Assignment Fifteen

“Would you like a pamphlet with a schedule of our activities?” a peppy worker asked, already offering him one. “We have several exhibits that recently grown, and we’re planning on renovating our East wing in the future.”

Dean politely took the pamphlet but didn’t think he would find anything interesting inside. “Thanks,” he said anyway. “But, uh, I’m mainly looking for your guys’ bees?”

“Oh,” the worker said, still beaming from ear to ear. “Then you’re looking for our Happy Days Hives. Just go through the butterfly habitat, take a left instead of a right at the end, and you’ll find it.”

“Thank you so much,” Dean said, giving her a wave as he started off in the direction she pointed.

The butterfly habitat ended up being a greenhouse with stifling humidity and an overabundance of neon flowers. And, of course, butterflies. They varied in sizes from a small dime-sized moth to a five-inch beast the size of his hand. He shuddered whenever one flapped past his head and tried to stick on the path as much as possible. He was endlessly relieved when he saw the sign pointing the way to the “Happy Happy Bee Hives: home to the best Honey in the County!” Dean picked up his paced and slipped through the doorway with a giant, beaming, cartoon bee on it.

The buzz of wings set Dean’s hair on end, but after a moment, he relaxed. There were six different box hives in the room, but the bees were safely contained behind Plexiglas. The longer he stayed, the less nervous he was. The buzzing turned more into a comforting hum, and Dean was able to relax onto one of the benches in the room. There was a bee counting machine in the middle of the room that kept track of how many bees came and went. Dean watch it climb steadily higher and higher as every second ticked on.

“Could I help you, sir?”

Dean glanced up, startling at the sudden appearance of the worker.

The older man was pushing a cart with a pallet of honey jars on it as well as some other equipment. The same cartoon bee on the door was smiling on all the labels, and they were all filled to the brim with brilliant golden honey. The man studied Dean with a slight look of wariness and confusion, as if he wasn’t quite sure why this grown man was hanging around Happy Happy Hives for so long.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said and stood. “Am I in the way?” The man’s name tag read ‘Cain’ in neat but boring sans. “Uh, Cain?”

“You’re not in the way,” Cain said, setting the pallet of honey down next to the display sign. “It’s just, well, do you need anything? Looking for anything in particular?”

“The bees,” Dean said and then realized how stupid that sounded since he had technically already found the bees. “I mean,” he corrected and looked to the hives. “Well, I don’t know. I just wanted to know more about the bees.”

“Well,” Cain said. “I was just about to smoke them and harvest the honeycomb. I’m supposed to kick all the guests out but—“ He glanced at the doors. “I guess you could stay.”

“Of course!” Dean said. “Thank you!”

“Just make sure you stand on the other side of the room,” Cain said, gesturing to the spot where Dean could stand. “And don’t get stung. The bees will be mostly drowsy, but it’s not my fault if you aggravate them.”

Dean nodded. He had already heard the same speech from Cas. Every bee sting meant a bee death. Dean swallowed and moved to a safe distance. And they certainly didn’t want bee deaths.

Cain unlocked a panel of the wall and unwound a long hose. He dragged it over to the first of the hives and pressed it against the air filter. He glanced at Dean one last time before flicking the switch and piping the smoke into the hives. He waited a minute or two before moving onto the next hive and then the next and the next. Until the low buzz had died down almost completely. He then put the hose away and grabbed a hood from the compartment, pulling it over his head and draping the mesh over his face and neck. He pulled on huge rubber gloves next, tugging them on all the way up to his elbows and tightening the straps. He then unhinged the Plexiglas panel and set it aside.

Dean flinched despite himself, but the bees were all to smoked up to care that they had a chance to escape. He watched as Cain pulled out the large rack of honeycomb. With a small hand rake, he started combing the whitish yellow wax off the sides. Cain scraped this into a stainless steel container, which he also took from the compartment in the wall. He didn’t explain anything and ignored Dean for the most part. He unlocked another section of the wall and pulled out a rack holding a stainless steel cylinder. Cain flicked a couple switches and then carefully secured the rack of honeycomb inside the bin. He flicked another switch and the blades started spinning, gently at first before picking up speed. Dean moved closer to get a better view.

“This draws the honey out,” Cain explained, speaking for the first time since he had started working. “It will collect on the bottom of the bin, which I will take to a separate cooking room to purify.”

“Interesting,” Dean said. “And how often do you have to do this?”

Cain shrugged. “It all depends on how fact the bees work,” he said and nodded to the hives full of drowsy bees. “But these little guys work pretty fast. Several months from now, I’ll probably do this again.” 

“Wow,” Dean said. So long just to get a little honey. He stepped back then to give Cain more room to work. “Did you study to be a beekeeper?” he asked, thinking of Cas. Would this be what he would do with his degree?

“No,” Cain said with a shake of his head. “Beekeeping was a hobby of mine. I’ve kept my own hives for a dozen years before getting hired here. I didn’t study at all. Just a high school GED.”

Dean did his best to hide his surprise. “Oh,” he said. “Well, um, I have a . . . . . friend studying to be an entomologist and like, what would he do?”

Cain shrugged, fixing the next rack of honeycomb into the bin. “Does he like bees?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “Loves them.”

“He’d probably be studying them,” Cain said. “Instead of taking care of them. Keeping track of honey production and bee populations. Scientific stuff like that, probably not much of what I’m doing. I only work a couple hours every week taking care of hives. Your friend would probably have a lab or something. An office at the very least. Is that why you’re here? Worried about the work environment?”

Dean felt his cheeks go hot when he didn’t have an immediate answer. “Um, no,” he said. “I mean, I’m not worried, I just . . . I want to see what he sees. God, that’s stupid. I want to get to know him better.” Every word felt more and more awkward. “It’s complicated,” he finally settled on.

Cain chuckled. “Isn’t like always,” he said. “Well, I hope you figure everything out.”

He wasn’t even done with one hive. Dean awkwardly stood off to the side as Cain switched out more of the honeycomb racks. The pool of amber slowly grew at the bottom of the bin. Finally, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. He thought, stupidly, if therapists ever got therapists. Everything was bottling up inside him. He felt like he was going to explode. How did Cas do it? Is this how he felt most of the time? Ready to burst the moment things got too much?

“Can you teach me about bees?” Dean blurted.

Cain looked up from his equipment. He was just starting on the second hive after re-smoking the bees. He transferred the rack to the bin and started the rotations before speaking. “What do you need to know?” he asked. “I’m sure there are fliers and pamphlets in the lobby for you to read.”

“I want to learn from someone who works with bees,” Dean said. The situation was already awkward and he already sounded stupid. May as well press forward and finish asked what he wanted. “Not from a book or anything. From real life.”

Cain brushed off his gloves and busied himself with arranging his equipment. “I can’t let you touch the bees or any of the tools,” he said.

“I don’t need to,” Dean quickly said. “I just want to watch. And talk. I don’t have to touch anything and I’ll stay out of the way as much as possible.”

Cain thought it over for several moments, taking the time to switch out the racks of honeycomb. “It’s against the habitat rules,” he said. “But I guess I could see if you’re allowed to study. Are you a student?” 

Dean chewed his bottom lip. “No . . . . .” he said hesitantly.

Cain shrugged. “I’ll tell them you’re a student,” he said, not giving any indication to who _them_ was. “I’ll tell them you’re looking for experience.”

“Thank you,” Dean said, honestly meaning it. “This means a lot to me.”

Cain grunted, switching out the racks. The conversation seemed to be over. So Dean stepped back to give Cain his space and watched the proceedings from a distance. It took Cain maybe a half an hour to get through all the racks in all the hives. When the last one was finally put back on its place, there was maybe a couple inches of honey at the bottom of the bin. Dean didn’t know much about the purification process of honey and didn’t know if that was a lot or not. Cain seemed happy with it though as he stripped off his hood and gloves and returned them to the compartment. He unhooked the bin and closed the hatch, relocking it to prevent guests from interfering with it.

“I’ll be back to check on the bees,” Cain said as he loaded the bin onto his cart. He pocketed the keys and pushed the cart out of the room.

Dean waited, returning to his previous seat on the bench. As the minutes ticked on, the bees slowly woke back up. They didn’t seem too started by the smoking as they sluggishly returned to work, and the bee counter continued upwards. The hum and buzz of wings resumed, and this time, Dean found it comforting. It was better than sitting in a silent room at least. Cain came back eventually and set about making sure the room was okay for more visitors.

“Is it okay if I come back?” Dean asked. “Like, come back after this?”

“I have to ask,” Cain said. “But for now, sure. As long as you stay out of the way like you did, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you so much,” Dean said.

“I work every day,” Cain said. “In the afternoon. Except for Saturday and Sunday. You can come while I’m on duty.”

“Again, thank you,” Dean said.

“Just don’t go blasting your privilege around,” Cain said. “I don’t want a whole crowd in here getting in my way.”

“Of course,” Dean said, and the conversation fell flat.

Cain finished up what he needed to do, wiping everything down and finally left Dean all alone. Well, alone with the bees. The counter continued to rise, slowly and then faster as the bees woke up. And Dean thought.

He tried to think of Cas not as his patient. Instead, he tried picturing Cas as a friend. Someone he had met and cared about. What would he do if he were Cas’s friend and he had seen the scars on his wrists? He would try to help him, of course. Or was that the therapist side of him talking? Dean sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He wanted to _understand_ Cas, if anything. He wanted to get to know him and get to know his life. Not as his therapist, but as his friend.

Dean wanted to groan. But he was Cas’s therapist first. That’s what he was at the beginning, and becoming something else—something more—was going to be awkward, weird, and very very hard.


	16. Assignment Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of Cas's pov. I think there will be more like this in the future ^-^

Books made you invisible.

Cas learned that near the end of his sophomore year of college. And it was an epiphany that made his life a million times better. He could actually catalogue all his school years into times of where he cared or not.

Freshman year he had tried. Hell fire and heaven glory, he had _tried_ , dammit. He was one of those peppy, excited-for-life freshman that attended every rally, every sporting event, even the non-sporting events. He had happily said hello to the people that sat next to him in his different classes and waved to people across the green. During freshman year, he had cared a lot.

And then sophomore year rolled around, and Cas noticed that no one ever returned his hellos or his waves. Well, they would, but hardly enthusiastically. A month after the beginning of the school year, he had invested in a pair of headphones. They were good. He wore them to class and in the hallways. People didn’t talk to him much. They still did, of course. Forced themselves to. Cas hated it. Whenever his headphones were out, people would try to talk with him about the weather and classes and homework. Small talk. It was cringe worthy. No one actually wanted to talk, but they forced themselves to because you can’t just ignore the kid sitting in the corner on his phone, right? Their conscience wouldn’t let them. But nobody bothered him when he had a book in his hands. Books made him invisible and they were a godsend. During sophomore year, he hadn’t cared as much, especially near the end.

Junior year was absolute crap. He read so many books he lost count. He challenged himself every day to try to be more invisible than the one before. If he wore dark colors, would people notice him less? If he didn’t make eye contact, would anyone actually acknowledge him? He talked with the student nurse his junior year. She was probably the only one he talked to on a regular basis. And she knew everything about him. Twice a week he would meet her in her office and spill his guts out. How many tissue boxes had he emptied? She told him that he could get over this, that he was very strong, and that many people went through things similar. Cas never told her that he didn’t have any friends. Instead, he told her about the people in his classes and the people he saw at meal times. During junior year, he hadn’t given a shit.

And then senior year. And he found someone else who didn’t give two shits about life same as him. Red head, go-get-em Charlie Bradbury. Computer hacker extraordinaire, a walking goddess. She was pretty much the only friend Cas had found at the college. Well, the only one that stuck. They ate lunch together most times, copied each other’s homework when they had the same classes, and photoshopped stupid pictures of the people they hated on Charlie’s laptop. She had made Cas start to care again. And it had been all her idea to hack the school’s webpage and recommend Cas to a new, local therapist instead of the college nurse. Charlie made everything look official. Every document had the school’s logo branded at the top as well as fancy wording. She then hooked up the payments to be taken from a credit card belonging to one of the white collar students that had parents with yachts and cabin getaways, students that could afford it.

Cas had been so nervous when the therapist had actually emailed them back, super official, saying that he was definitely free to start meeting one Castiel Shurley as soon as next week. After getting that email, Charlie had had to sit by him while he hyperventilated his way through a panic attack. She didn’t try to hold him or hug him. Just sat shoulder-to-hip-to-knee with him while he rode out the storm and then showed him a picture of Megan with a pretty convincing beard and moustache photoshopped onto her face.

And then Cas had met Dean. No, he had met Dr. Winchester and _then_ he had met Dean. The first times were all professional, the regular awkward. That was Dr. Winchester. Slowly, the walls started to fade and Dean started to show. And Cas started to care. A lot. A whole damn lot.

Teachers began remarking about the improvement in his homework. They’d actually smile at him when they handed back his worksheets or quizzes, often with “good job!” or “Amazing!” scrawled in quick, red ink. Life had been good. Well, starting to get good. Not quite there but definitely on the right path.

And Dean had gone and asked him to call his family. What had Cas been supposed to do? Say no to the green eyes that believed he could get better? He had asked Charlie about it, and she had offered to lend him her phone. So that the number would be unrecognizable. And Cas had done it, all the while thinking of Dean’s hopeful grin and stupid laugh.

And everything had gone to shit.

Cas sat with his back against Gabe, leaning his head on his older brother’s shoulder. He was wrapped in a thick blanket that smelled infuriatingly of Dean. Everything smelled like Dean. Of course, this was his house. Cas figured that it smelled like Sam too, but Dean was the only one he knew that smelled like laundry detergent and apple pie and the _entire_ _house_ smelled like laundry detergent and apple pie. Therefore, everything smelled like Dean.

“I’m going to rip that so-called Doctor’s head off,” Gabe was mumbling. It was slightly amusing since a sleepy, disgruntled Sam had whipped up grilled cheese to placate him after this morning’s chaos. Gabe now grumbled between bites, licking the grease off his fingers. “He has no right to try to take advantage of you. It has to be against the rules. There are rules, aren’t there?”

Cas shuddered as Gabe’s words made him think back to when he had first woken up. The shock. The horror. Dean had seen him. Not just looked at him. _Seen_ him. Seen his arms, seen his ribs, seen his thighs. Cas wondered, briefly, if Dean had seen the burn marks on his knees from when he snuffed cigarette butts on his skin. He had felt naked and ugly and his throat had closed up in panic. It still felt closed. He didn’t want to talk. So he didn’t. Gabe did all the talking for him.

“It’s unethical,” Gabe grumbled. “It’s dastardly. It’s illegal. This is really damn good!”

Sam appeared out of the kitchen, carrying mugs of what smelled like coffee. “Maybe you should shut your mouth and eat more,” he said and offered a cup to Cas. “Coffee. Hazelnut creamer. I mixed it how I like it, but I think you’ll enjoy it too.”

Cas took it, grateful to have something to occupy his mouth. And the coffee was _good_. He was used to the bitter, acrid coffee that his college dining hall served. The stuff had to be drowned in sugar and creamer, the vanilla kind. It wasn’t good, well, at least not as good as this.

“What was Dean even doing?” Gabe demanded. He didn’t just acknowledge the elephant in the room. He jumped on its back and rode buck-and-bronco until the thing submitted. And then, he killed the elephant, mounted its head on the wall, and screamed at it.

“I’m sure Dean was trying to do his job,” Sam said. “Look, I’m just as confused as you. Okay? We all need to calm down. This isn’t about you or me; this is about Cas.”

Cas didn’t want it to be about him. He wanted to stop existing.

“And Dean,” Gabe said. “This is about Dean because I want to know what he was doing with Cas naked. I’m going to protect my brother.”

“They weren’t naked,” Sam said.

“When we saw them,” Gabe said, as if this point proved everything. “Who knows what they were doing all night.”

Cas felt a knot swell in his throat. He wanted to tell them both to stop talking, to shut up. He wanted to scream and yell and tear the world apart. Instead, he took a drink of the hazel-sweet coffee and chewed skin off his lip.

“Dean isn’t that kind of person,” Sam said, frowning at Gabe.

“What?” Gabe said. There was a sneer in his voice. “Not the gay kind of person?”

Cas wanted to die.

“Not the type of person to take advantage of another,” Sam corrected sternly. Cas was surprised he was able to stay so calm while discussing his brother. “I know Dean and he isn’t like that.”

Cas knew it too. He wouldn’t claim that he knew Dean because he didn’t. He knew _about_ Dean and even then, he didn’t know much. But he knew enough to know that Dean wasn’t the sleaze bag that Gabe was calling him. He was _pure_. He was _nice_. He was a therapist that helped people with their problems. He didn’t try to worm his way into beds that he didn’t belong.

“How do you know what your brother is like in bed?” Gabe snapped back.

That was all Cas could take. With his coffee clutched tight, he stood and hurried out of the room, ducking his head as he felt Sam’s and Gabe’s eyes follow him all the way out. He didn’t want them to follow. But at the same time he did.

“Give him room,” Cas heard Sam say.

“Are you crazy?” Gabe said back.

Instead of retreating up to the guest bedroom – Cas wasn’t ready for that quite yet – he ducked into some random side room. He didn’t even fumble for a light switch. Didn’t need it. He sunk to the cold tiles of the laundry room and leaned against the dryer. No, washer. He was leaning against the washer. The cold plastic was soothing. Cas felt too hot. Too crushed. Too trapped. Too everything.

Too much.

He shakily brought his mug to his mouth and took a sip. It tasted like sweet sawdust. Nutty sawdust. Good sawdust.

He closed his eyes and took another sip.


	17. Assignment Seventeen

“Where’s Cas?” Dean asked the moment he walked through the front door.

Sam was walking out of the kitchen, carrying a plate with a sandwich and a bowl of chips. He had two cans of soda shoved under one arm, and his hair was secured back by a black headband. It was a common look that Dean had gotten used to by now. It meant Sam was concentrating or had to focus.

“Laundry room?” Sam offered, scrunching his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I have to keep Gabe occupied or else he goes off the hook. He’s eaten half our kitchen.”

“Why is he in the laundry room?” Dean asked. He didn’t really care about the food issue.

Sam shrugged. “Because he needed space?” he offered. “I’m not the therapist. I’m just shoving food in Gabe’s face so I can do homework.”

“Sam, what’s taking you so long?” the previously mentioned annoyance said, leaning around the corner. His eyes darkened when he saw Dean. “Oh, you’re back.”

“I’m not the bad guy here,” Dean said, exasperated that Gabe still held him in contempt. “Can’t you see that?”

“I saw you in your underwear,” Gabe said, crossing his arms. “I think that makes you a bad guy.”

Dean wanted to groan but he held onto his composure. “Has Cas eaten?” he asked, gesturing to the food.

“Not that I know of,” Sam said. “He’s been in the laundry room for, what? Three hours maybe? Almost since you left.”

“He didn’t have breakfast,” Dean said. “And he didn’t have dinner last night either. Are you trying to starve him?!” He shoved past Sam, heading straight for the laundry room.

“I was trying to give him space,” Sam said after him.

Dean paused at the door of the laundry room. It was cracked open, but Dean didn’t want to burst in and scare Cas. At least, scare him more than he was already scared. He took a breath to compose himself and knocked. He waited for a response and then knocked again. If Cas was in there, he wasn’t making a noise. So Dean gently pushed to door open and peeked his head in.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Cas was sitting on the floor, leaning against the washer. He had his knees pulled up to his chest and an empty coffee mug sat on the ground next to him. He glanced up at Dean briefly and then ducked his gaze, shaking his head. He scooted slightly away from the door and hugged his legs.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Dean said gently. “Can I come in?”

Cas wouldn’t look at him and still didn’t say anything, so Dean stepped slowly into the room and sat down across from him. Cas wordlessly pushed his mug over to him, and Dean took it. Did he want more? Coffee? Tea?

“I wanted to say that I am sorry about last night,” Dean started. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You were just really cold, and I was trying to warm you up.”

Cas peeked out from his arms and pointed to the empty mug in Dean’s hands. He didn’t meet his gaze, just stared intently at the mug instead.

“Coffee?” Dean asked. “Tea?”

Cas shook his head and then nodded.

“Tea?” Dean repeated, and Cas nodded again. Dean held back a sigh and pushed himself to his feet, slipping back out of the room and out into the kitchen.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked, following him in from the living room. “At least you guys aren’t shouting.”

“Yeah, but Cas isn’t talking at all,” Dean said, roughly searching the cupboards for supplies for tea. It was hard to keep his emotions in check. The worst part about all of this was that he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. As much as he wanted to point fingers at Gabe or Luce or anyone else in Cas’s family, he couldn’t. Everything was his fault and now he had to fix it.

“Tea’s in the cupboard over the stove,” Sam said. “What do you mean he isn’t talking?”

“I mean he’s not talking,” Dean repeated, opening the cupboard Sam had pointed out. “Like at all. Has he said anything to you?” He shuffled through the boxes of tea, choose one that sounded good, and pulled out two tea bags, plopping them into the cups.

“No,” Sam said, frowning. “Why? What does that mean?”

Dean didn’t want to give his diagnosis. If he said it that would make it more real than it already was. And he didn’t want it to be real. He wanted Cas to be fine, to be healthy, to be getting better. Most of all, he didn’t want to be the one making Cas hurt. He swallowed hard, aware that Sam was still waiting, expectantly for an answer. Dean put the kettle of water on the stove to start heating before clearing his throat and answering.

“Selective mutism,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice steady. He remembered his professors going over it in class, giving all the symptoms and causes as well as possible treatment methods. He didn’t want to tell Sam all of that though. “It’s, ah, a type of anxiety disorder.”

“Oh,” Sam said. It’s not like he needed a definition. The words explained themselves good enough, and he wasn’t stupid.

Dean screwed his eyes shut and clenched his hands into tight fists, resisting the urge to punch the counter or the cupboards or anything. “Shit,” he spat. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He didn’t want to resort to violence but goddamn, the urge to pound something to an unrecognizable pulp was unbelievably strong.

“Just don’t rush him,” Sam coaxed. “No one will move unless they want to. The best you can do is give him support so that when he does take the next step, he will be strong enough to keep going.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “Is that from your reading class?” he said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shakespearean Lit,” he corrected. “Now, I’m going to occupy Gabe. You go do whatever you need to do with Cas.”

Dean poured the hot water over the tea bags and tried not to think too much about the daunting task ahead of him. After stirring in the sugar, he added a couple drops of creamer like he had seen Sam do before. He let the bags seep as he hurried back upstairs to the guest bedroom to grab a couple extra pillows and blankets. Then, with everything piled carefully in his arms, he headed back to the laundry room. Cas was still sitting curled up against the washer.

“Hey,” Dean said. He couldn’t knock because of what he was carrying but still wanted to give Cas a heads up before barging in on him. “I got you tea. And blankets.”

Cas accepted the mug silently, and Dean set the blankets down next to him. Dean sat down opposite of him, where he had been before and tucked his knees up, trying not to crowd Cas too much.

“Can I, uh, explain what happened last night?” Dean asked. “I mean, explain what I was doing. And what I was _not_ doing?”

Cas shrugged, sipping the tea. He clutched it close to his chin, as if he were drawing warmth directly from it. His eyes were fixed on the floor. The only consolation Dean had was that they weren’t as tired as they normally looked.

“I was not,” Dean started. “Trying to take advantage of you. Or trying to, um, have, uh . . . . . sex with you. Or . . . . or rape you. God, I definitely wasn’t trying to rape you. That would be extremely unethical of me as a therapist—as a goddamn _person_. And I could lose my license if this went public.” Dean took a deep breath. “In fact, if you, perhaps, uh, felt threatened or felt as if I _was_ trying to take advantage of you, you can go to a lawyer and build a case against me and I could lose my license as a therapist. If you wanted.”

Cas shook his head. He wasn’t looking at him though and he still hadn’t said anything.

“I won’t force you to do anything of course,” Dean said. He wanted to make sure Cas understood that he wasn’t trapped or stuck in place. He had plenty of other options and if he didn’t like Dean, he could easily leave. “If you don’t want to talk to me anymore, I completely understand. Just, um, tell me and I can find something else or some _one_ else. I want you to get better, Cas, but if I’m not helping you get better than I need to leave.”

He waited for a response, anything. Cas just sipped his tea and stared at the floor.

“What I _was_ trying to do,” Dean said. “Was warm you up. I had forced you into a cold shower because you were . . . . . itching. Cold water numbs the nerves and stops the urge to do that. But, afterwards, you weren’t heating back up. So, I, uh, I guess you could call it cuddling? I don’t want to call it that. I was trying to heat your body back up before anything bad happened. I was just trying to help you, and then, I guess, I fell asleep. Accidentally. I didn’t mean to. It was entirely an accident. And, well, then you woke up and . . . . . . well, you know the rest.”

Dean paused to give Cas a chance to say something if he wanted. Dean didn’t really expect him to. The diagnosis he had told Sam—selective mutism—it was showing in Cas’s behavior.

“And that’s it,” Dean said. “That is . . . . . . everything. That I can think of. You have to choose now, Cas. You can make me leave, permanently if you want. Or, if you will still let me, I would like to continue to do my best to help you.”

Cas sipped his tea. Dean was stupidly aware that his own cup was probably getting cold so he took a drink of his own. Slightly too sweet, he realized with a grimace. He should’ve left the tea-making up to Sam. He took another drink anyway, wanting to give Cas enough time to think and make his decision. So they sat there in silence for a minute or two, each slowly working on their tea. Finally, with what felt like a boulder on his chest, Dean had to accept Cas’s unspoken decision.

“Okay,” he said. “I understand. Um, I’ll call some friends of mine—other therapists—if you want. Or, uh, you and your family can make a decision on which way you want to go after this. I should call the college to tell them to cut the paychecks and tell Gabe that he can—“ His voice stuttered. Dammit, he was so close to making it through without stumbling. He cleared his throat to cover the slip up. “Gabe can help you pack your things.”

Careful not to spill his tea, Dean pushed himself to his feet. He went slowly, hoping and praying that Cas would change his mind or give him a sign. But Cas didn’t seem to want to look at him.

“Alright then,” Dean said. “I’ll . . . . leave you alone.”

He turned and opened the door. A hand on his ankle made him flinch and turn around. Cas had reached out and grabbed him, probably at the last possible moment. His eyes—blue blue horribly blue eyes were looking up at Dean. They weren’t begging or pleading or desperate for him to stay. But they also didn’t want to be left alone.

So Dean sat back down, carefully, slowly. He looked down at his lap and Cas looked down at his. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. Dean was content with knowing that Cas still wanted him around. They each sipped their tea and shifted to get comfortable on the hard tile floor. Neither of them felt brave enough to reach for the pillows and blankets.

“Thank you,” Dean finally whispered. He watched the ripples in his tea, caused by his breath. “Thank you for giving me a chance, Cas.”

Cas didn’t say anything. But he did reach across the space between them and place a hand on Dean’s sock-covered foot. And that was enough for Dean.


	18. Assignment Eighteen

Cas was glad that Dean didn’t leave. He was also glad he didn’t try to talk to him after the huge gushing confession. Cas wasn’t sure how he felt about everything. Part of him was furious over what Dean had done. It was a small part, but that part burned low in his stomach, insistent that Cas should get a lawyer and ruin Dean’s career. That was the part of Cas that actually cared. The problem was, the rest of him didn’t. The rest of him didn’t care what happened, didn’t care about Dean, didn’t care about anything. That part of him just wanted everything to go away so that he could sit here in silence. He shifted in his seat, glancing briefly at the pillows and blankets. They would make his spot much more comfortable but he didn’t dare reach for them. He didn’t want to move.

Cas had finished his tea a long time ago and was only holding a cold empty mug at the moment. He felt too awkward to put it down. He glanced up at Dean, wondering if he felt just as awkward as Cas did.

He was asleep. Cas smiled and couldn’t hold back a small laugh.

Dean had dozed off with his chin on his chest, breathing loosely through his mouth, snoring softly. It was more just heavy breathing. His legs leaned off to one side, hardly in a position that could be comfortable but there he was. His mug was tipped over on his lap, lost to the grip of limp hands. It had been mostly empty though, and only a few drops had spilled onto his pants. Despite his awkward position, he looked relaxed. At least, his face looked calm. Cas had gotten so used to Dean’s eyebrows being permanently furrowed together and his forehead constantly wrinkled. Asleep though, and he looked ten years younger. In fact, he didn’t look that old at all.

Cas shifted and set his cup aside. He grabbed one of the blankets and slowly moved toward Dean, being careful not to wake him up. He draped the blanket over Dean’s shoulders, tucking it around his neck so that it would stay. Dean mumbled in his sleep when Cas’s fingers brushed against his throat and shifted but didn’t wake up. Cas carefully collected the empty mugs and tiptoed out of the laundry room.

He heard Sam and Gabe in the living room, talking about one of Sam’s classes. Gabe seemed pretty heated about the whole thing but Sam sounded exhausted.

“I can’t explain this again,” he said. “Gabe, man, I need to study. I can’t go through the entire plot of Hamlet again.”

“But I want to hear about the murder,” Gabe said. “Your teacher said that some people believe that Hamlet knew that he was killing his uncle, but in the book he says it was an accident. So which is it?”

Sam sighed. “That’s what you have to figure out,” he said. “It’s up to _you_ to decide. _You_ have to think through it and _you_ have the read between the lines. Not me. Here, go to YouTube and look up some theories.”

Cas risked peeking his head in. Sam and Gabe were on the couch. Cas noticed his bags had been cleaned up and set neatly off to the side. Gabe was basically sitting in Sam’s lap, trying to look at the computer on the coffee table. Alas, Cas was noticed almost immediately, and Gabe popped to his feet, eyes looking hopeful.

“Cas!” he said. “How are you doing? Are you alright? Sam wouldn’t let me go in.”

Cas nodded, gratefully looking to Sam and wishing he could thank him properly. His throat—his stupid damn throat—felt like it was swollen shut.

“Dean didn’t do anything, did he?” Gabe asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Cas shook his head and then pointed to the kitchen, hoping that Sam and Gabe understood that he wanted something to eat. Or drink. Or something. His stomach felt less hungry and more empty. Logic told him he needed to fill it even if he didn’t actually feel like eating.

“I can make something,” Sam offered, shoving Gabe away from him and standing. He moved toward the kitchen. Gently. He was trying to be subtle but Cas noticed.

He appreciated Sam’s concern, but he didn’t want to be tiptoed around, like he would go off at any second. Of course, if he remembered anything from the last few nights, they probably were scared he’d go off screaming or yelling or acting like a madman. Cas wasn’t proud of the breakdown of course. He was usually able to keep himself together. He didn’t like losing control. Still, at least Sam and Gabe weren’t making a big deal out of it, even though they most likely heard him screaming.

Sam moved through the cupboards, pulled out different ingredients or dishes that could be heated up quickly. “Gabe at most of the bread and cheese,” Sam explained. “But I could probably make grilled cheese or something if you want it. We have soup and ramen noodles. Geez, I mean, TV dinners if you really want.”

Cas smiled at his efforts and accepted the can of soup that Sam had pulled down. Sam took out a bowl and spoon and directed him to the microwave. Cas was glad that Sam didn’t try to baby him or do it for him. It made Cas feel slightly better, especially since he left immediately after, going back to the living room to occupy Gabe. Cas opened the can and dumped the noodles and chicken and broth into the bowl before sticking it in the microwave for several minutes. He tapped the counter as he waited and finally got himself a cup of water to sip on. He stopped the microwave before it beeped, not wanting to cause a commotion. He stirred it a couple times to make sure it had completely heated before taking it out, balancing it on his fingertips. He grabbed a couple napkins to act as an oven mitt and grabbed his water, hoping that Sam wouldn’t stop him from eating in the laundry room. When he tiptoed through the living room, Sam stopped him.

“Hey, Cas,” he said. He jumped to his feet, disturbing Gabe who had headphones on and was studying Sam’s laptop intently. Sam took a couple steps so that he was closer to Cas, but not too close. “Dean didn’t—he didn’t actually hurt you, did he?”

Cas felt his cheeks redden and he quickly shook his head.

Sam’s eyes were completely serious though as he studied him up and down. “If he did do anything,” Sam said. “Anything at all, Cas, you need to tell me. As much as I want to believe Dean is a good person, if he did do something, he can’t be allowed around you. I won’t be mad at you if he did; I just need you to tell me.”

Cas shook his head again. Quickly, emphatically. No matter how many times he said it, the words didn’t seem to stick to them. How else could he say that Dean hadn’t hurt him? Only surprised him. Well, it hurt knowing that Dean had seen all his scars and seen him broken down the way he was. But he hadn’t done anything physically. Cas wished he could make Sam and Gabe understand that.

“Alright,” Sam said, stepping back. “That’s okay, Cas. Gabe and I are here if you need it though. Remember that.”

Cas gave him his best I’m-okay smile and nodded before slipping back to the safety of the laundry room.

Dean had tipped over since he had left and was laying on the ground now, curled up in a loose fetal position as he snored. The blanket had slipped halfway off, so Cas set his soup and water down to fix it. Dean didn’t even react to his fingers this time. Cas smiled down at him, wedging a pillow beneath his head and the hard tile floor. And then quickly moved to rearrange the other blankets and pillows into a nest of his own before settling down for a bowl of hot food. It tasted amazing after not eating for so long. The broth was salty and savory and the noodles melted in his mouth. Cas ate quickly, wondering if he should go ask Sam for a second can. He sipped on his water for a moment, studying Dean. The soft, rhythmic breathing of his sleep was soothing, and Cas found himself relaxing. He decided that yes, he would go get more soup.

Sam was perfectly fine with getting him another can and Gabe looked happy to see him again so soon. Cas let himself be hugged and fussed over, unable to hold back his smiles as Gabe ruffled his hair and told him what a good younger brother he was. Sam handed him the bowl of hot soup, this time with slices of buttered bread to dip in the broth, and Cas nodded his thanks before making his way back to the laundry room and back to his piles of blankets and pillows. Back to Dean.

Cas curled up, sitting on the pillows and drawing the blankets over his legs. He settled down for his second bowl of soup, this time even more delicious with the bread to soak up every drop. His stomach was finally full by the time he finished and Cas set the bowl aside along with his empty glass of water. He sat there a moment, staring blankly at the wall. He shifted slowly until he lay down on his side, facing Dean.

It felt weird to be laying face to face like this, even though there was a decent foot and a half between them. Cas could feel his body tense up as it remembered this morning and registered Dean as a threat. His heartbeat kicked up a notch, thudding harder in his chest. His breathing became soft pants, and his stomach threatened to throw up what he had just eaten. Cas clenched his teeth and forced himself to stare at Dean as the panic attack took over. He whimpered as he didn’t let himself claw at his skin or find the nearest blade or sharp edge. It took effort.

Eventually, the hyperventilating passed, and Cas slumped on the pillows, exhausted. He realized that he was squeezing his left wrist tight, so tight that the bandages were crumpled under his fingers. The scratches beneath ached dully, but there was no blood. Cas stared down at his arms as the realization struck.

No blood. He wasn’t bleeding.

He curled up tighter under his blanket and hugged an extra pillow to his chest. He buried his face in the fabric to hide his smile and let himself drift off to sleep.


	19. Assignment Nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you guys kill me for adding Sabriel? It will be small, I promise, and it won't take over the story. Just be warned, does anyone outright hate Sabriel?

 

Dean woke up in a puddle of his own drool. Well, the pillow beneath him was wet and that was basically the same thing. With a startled grunt, he pushed himself up, wiping at his mouth as he registered where he was.

Shoot. And where was Cas?

Dean at least remembered him sitting across from him on the tile. And when did he get a blanket and pillow? He pushed the thought away and climbed to his feet, running his fingers through his hair as he headed out to the living room. He could hear Sam and Gabe talking; he hoped Cas was with them. And he was. Cas was perched on the overstuffed leather recliner, hands wrapped around a streaming mug, giggling and trying to hide his smile. It relieved Dean to see him actually enjoying himself.

“What do you mean Shakespeare didn’t even write Shakespeare?!” Gabe was saying as Dean walked in. “Isn’t that like his _thing_? Like what he’s most famous for?!”

Sam rolled his eyes, slipping his headband off and then back on, a sign that Dean recognized as stress. “I’m not saying he didn’t,” he said. “I’m saying there is a theory. Because so little is known about Shakespeare and when Mark Twain accused him of being fake, well, a lot of people believed him.”

“That is so wacked out,” Gabe said, studying the screen of Sam’s laptop. “And what’s this about him being gay?”

“He wasn’t gay,” Sam corrected. “But, people do think he was bisexual. He was married to a woman and had children but many of his famous love poems were directed at young men.”

Gabe laughed. “That is hilarious,” he said. “Shakespeare totally wanted the D.”

Sam rubbed his temple and groaned. When he spotted Dean, his eyes lit up with relief.

“Dean,” he said. “Good, you’re finally awake!” He nudged Gabe, a less than subtle indication that he was tired of Cas’s older brother and wanted a break. “You said you wanted to talk with Dean.”

Gabe popped to his feet, immediately forgetting about gay Shakespeare and discussing that with Sam. His eyes held that same dark seriousness when he had first protected Cas. Dean had a sinking suspicion that this was also about protecting Cas. Gabe marched him straight to the kitchen and planted himself between Dean and the living room, hands on his hips.

“I called more family,” he said.

“Are you stupid?!” Dean erupted. He couldn’t help himself. Gabe must be braindead if he thought bringing _more_ siblings into the mix was a good idea. Just look how well that had gone so far.

“I know what I’m doing,” Gabe said, hands still planted firmly.

“Clearly you don’t!” Dean said. “Cas doesn’t need family right now. He needs—“

“What?” Gabe said, cutting him off short. “Needs you? Please. He’s scared of you. And he’s in this strange place with strange people. He needs things that he recognizes. People that he recognizes. His _family_.”

Dean wanted to protest, but Gabe’s logic was sound. In fact, Dean himself had told Cas to call his family in the first place with hopes of encouraging him the same way. If Cas could reconnect with his family, that was one step closer to his not needing Dean. And maybe that was what Dean was so scared of.

“Who?” Dean demanded. “Who did you call?”

“A brother,” Gabe said. “Younger to me but older than Cas. He said he would come as soon as possible.” He rolled his eyes. “And no, he isn’t like Luce. He’s not going to pitch a fit. I explained things to him.”

Dean gritted his teeth for a moment, debating over protesting further. He sighed and relaxed. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll trust you. You’re his brother after all.”

Gabe relaxed at the words, even his eyes softening up in sympathy. He offered Dean a half-hearted, crooked grin. “I know you’re doing your best,” he said. “And I don’t really know or understand how therapists work, but you seem good.”

Dean returned the smile. “And I understand why you hate me,” he said.

Gabe gave him a full-fledged smile this time, beaming from ear to ear. He grabbed Dean in a headlock, a pretty awkward maneuver considering that Dean was taller and ended up slouching to let Gabe do it. Gabe slapped his chest good naturedly and laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “Just protective of my younger brother. I’m sure you’re the same way.” He lowered his voice as if he were sharing a secret. “And if I were you, I’d be watching out for little Sammy in there. I’d bet he’s got girls and guys lined up just waiting.” He slapped Dean’s chest one last time and let him go. “I’m just saying,” he said, backing out of the kitchen and into the living room. “He’s a looker.”

Dean chuckled nervously, not really sure how to respond to that or the cheeky gleam that had returned to Gabe’s eyes. All of a sudden, Dean wasn’t so comfortable with Gabe sitting so close to Sam on the couch. Dean rummaged through the cupboards and found himself an energy bar and then poured himself a cup of cold coffee before following Gabe into the living room.

Gabe had gone back to reading Sam’s laptop, sitting—Dean noticed—particularly close, shoulder to hip to knee. He was giggling about Shakespeare, pointing to the different paragraphs and asking Sam questions. Sam, to his credit, looked less tired and more annoyed. He was crouched over his notes, ignoring Gabe for the most part. Cas was laughing along with Gabe, and Dean was relieved to hear actual noise coming out of him. Dean didn’t like it when Cas was too quiet.

“Hey, what’s college like?” Gabe asked, poking at Sam’s side. “I never went. This seems like a lot of work.”

“Hard work,” Sam corrected, shifting as Gabe’s fingers poked him again. “And concentration.”

Gabe snagged one of his highlighters, the yellow one. “The teachers seemed impressed with you,” he said, uncapping it. He dotted the back of Sam’s hand.

Dean raised an eyebrow and instinctively glanced to Cas, wordlessly asking if they were seeing the same thing. Cas had looked to him too and smiled shyly. Dean glanced to Gabe and then back to Cas, shrugging his shoulders. Gabe and Dean’s conversation in the kitchen came to mind, and Dean watched as Sam tried to snatch the highlighter back, only to have Gabe hold it away.

Was Gabe . . . . . . . _flirting_ with Sam?

Dean smiled as Gabe snickered and managed to draw a line on Sam’s cheek. Sam wasn’t as amused as everyone else. He snatched highlighter back, trying to make sure the other ones weren’t stolen as well. As he and Gabe wrestled for control, Cas and Dean shared a smile. And then Cas seemed to remember who he was smiling at because his face froze and his gaze dropped to the ground. He shifted in his seat and took a drink from his mug, doing his best to avoid meeting Dean’s eyes. Dean let him, not trying to push contact. He downed his mug of less-than-appetizing cold coffee and pushed off the wall he had been leaning on.

“I’m heading out,” he told Sam and Gabe.

Sam glanced at him pleadingly as Gabe flopped in his lap, scattering all his papers and notes. Dean gave him an I’m-sorry shrug.

“I’ve got work,” he said. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched Cas’s head pop back up and his forehead furrow. Dean made a point of not looking at him. “I’ll be back before supper though. Want me to pick something up?”

Gabe forgot about tormenting Sam and sat back up. “Pizza sounds good,” he said. “All meat for me. Something chicken for Cas though, with no bacon.”

Cas nodded to affirm this fact.

“Alright,” Dean said, grabbing his coat off the hook and slipping it on. His keys were in the pocket already. “See you later.”

                                            

                                                                           *********

 

Dean sat on the opposite side of the bees’ hives, watching as Cain gave them the daily scrub down. It wasn’t as extensive as harvesting. Cain would only wipe away the sticky fingerprints left behind by guests and the dust that settled from the constant foot traffic. Dean knew the routine by now. After wiping down the hives, Cain would sweep the floor, maybe mop. He would then rearrange the shelf of honey, sometimes putting up sale stickers and sometimes taking them down. He would restock it if needed.

“So how is your friend?” Cain asked. “The one studying bees. Is it still complicated?”

Dean was surprised that he had actually remembered. Of course, it probably wasn’t every day that someone spilled their guts to him in the middle of a harvest. Not something that could easily be forgotten.

“He’s . . . . well, I mean . . . . it’s still complicated,” Dean said.

Cain nodded as if he understood. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”

Dean felt bad. Only slightly bad because Cain didn’t really need to know what was going on between him and Cas, but on the other hand, Dean wanted to spill about everything that had been happening so far. Training kept his mouth closed, and he chanted the therapist mantra in his head: _everything is between you and the patient. Everything is between you and the patient. Everything is between you and the patient._

Dean added in his mind at the very end: _unless the patient is a danger to themselves and others._

And Cas wasn’t a danger.

Dean felt a coil of worry in his stomach. But Cas _was_ a danger. Not to others but to himself. Dean had literally watched him smash a lamp and cut himself with the glass. He clenched his hands into tight fists as he thought of Cas now: all alone in the house except for Sam and Gabe. Would they be able to stop Cas from harming himself? Did they even _know_? Gabe might. Sam certainly didn’t. Dean wondered, then, if he should’ve told Sam or at least given him a warning. Dean chewed his lip.

“Still content to watch bees, eh?” Cain said, filling up the silence that Dean had left.

Dean nodded. “I’m trying to figure things out,” he said, aware of how vague he was sounding. “It’s just been really hard.”

Cain grunted, spraying down the top of the next hive with disinfectant. “Life is hard,” he said. “And then you die.”

Dean blinked at the words, suddenly aware that the phrase was actually very true. Life _was_ hard and then what happened? You died. It was like an uphill battle. Dean tried to think of something to say against Cain’s words. Something positive. Something that would prove him wrong.

He couldn’t.

He sat there dumbly, trying to think of reasons that life was worth living. Why did he wake up every morning? Sam, his patients, the fact that he had people to help. Was anything really worth it?

“I gotta go,” Dean muttered, shoving his keys into his pocket as he stood. He barely heard Cain’s goodbye as he hurried out the door. He dodged the attention of the greeter woman before she could offer him another pamphlet and rushed out into the parking lot.

He decided to head to the college. Besides, Naomi was probably expecting a phone call from him, may as well meet her in person. Just parking in the lot and spotting the security guards loitering around the dorm buildings was enough to throw Dean’s mind back to Luce and when he and Cas had first been here. He shook off his uneasiness and headed towards the main building, where he knew Naomi’s office was. Students were wandering from class to class, and Dean briefly wondered if they were anything like Cas.

Naomi was excited to see him. Or as excited as she could appear. Her eyebrows popped up about a quarter inch and she stood. That was about the only real reaction Dean got out of her when he walked through her office door.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”

Dean nodded and opened his mouth to talk when he noticed the student sitting in the other side of the room, occupying one of the chairs that a patient normally would.

She had startling red hair and wore a retro, faded t-shirt with a depiction of Princess Leia from Star Wars on it. A worn leather bag sat at her feet, brimming with books, papers, and a laptop. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her legs were crossed, classic defensive posture that Dean recognized. He gave her a nod of hello nonetheless.

“I was just talking with Ms. Bradbury,” Naomi, gesturing for Dean to sit as she sat herself. She rearranged her papers, her manner very clinical and cold. “About Mr. Shurley of all people.”

Dean glanced briefly back to the girl, wondering what she had to do with Cas. Naomi answered his unspoken question like she could read his mind.

“Charlotte Bradbury was Castiel’s only friend,” Naomi supplied.

“I wasn’t his only friend,” the girl said, snappishly. “You just don’t know him that well!” She glared at Naomi and Dean. “And it’s Charlie,” she added under her breath.

“Ms. Bradbury,” Naomi chided. “Indoor voice, please. There is no reason to be angry.”

Charlie slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms tighter. She jerked her chin to Dean. “And what’s _he_ doing here?”

Naomi cleared her throat. “I think you would recognize Dr. Winchester,” she said. “Since you picked his name out of the dozen surrounding therapists in the area.”

Charlie sucked in a quick breath and rolled her eyes. “Are we still going on about this?” she said. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ms. Bradbury was the one who contacted you, Mr. Winchester,” Naomi said. “If you remember, the school doesn’t recommend its students to outside treatments. But Ms. Bradbury often doesn’t respect the rules, let alone attempt to follow them.”

Charlie scuffed the tow of her shoe against the carpet. “I was trying to help Cas,” she muttered under her breath.

Dean sighed in exasperation. “Look, Naomi,” he said. “Charlie didn’t do anything wrong. Just let her go, I’ll take the blame for everything.”

Naomi didn’t seem so happy with his suggestion but nodded to Charlie anyway. Charlie immediately grabbed her bag and darted out the door, not giving either of them a second glance. Dean kinda wished she had thanked him. Now he was stuck with Naomi alone.

“I assume you want to talk about Mr. Shurley,” Naomi said.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe talking with Charlie would be better than talking with Naomi. “I just wanted to stop by, tell you he’s doing good, and whatever. We’re trying immersion therapy, getting him out and about. The exercise seems to be really helping.”

Naomi nodded. “That sounds good,” she said. “I tried to encourage him to get involved in extracurricular activities when he talked to me. It’s good that he’s finally moving forward.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “And. Uh. I should probably get back to him, so I gotta go. I can call or whatever when things start progressing even more.”

Naomi nodded and went back to organizing the papers on her desk. “Thank you so much,” she said. “You can be dismissed.”

As if he had been waiting for permission. Dean hurried out the door and double checked the hallway, looking for Charlie’s red hair. Where would she have gone? Maybe another student had seen her and could point him in the right direction. He started off down the hall back towards the front entrance. He got to the lobby when a hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him to a stop, spinning him around.

It was Charlie, eyes flooded with concern.

“How’s he doing?” she asked. “And don’t screw me over. How’s he _really_ doing?”

“Um, not good,” Dean said. “There was a cutting problem and he went a little downhill. Now he’s doing better. Not as good as he . . . . . . should be.”

Charlie sighed and let go of his arm. “Shit,” she muttered. “He told me he didn’t have a problem with that anymore.”

“He talked to you?” Dean said.

Charlie shrugged her shoulders. “You heard Ms. Bitch in there. I’m his only friend. We did a lot together.”

“And you helped him?” Dean said, blinking in surprise. Maybe Charlie’s perspective was what he needed to help Cas. Maybe she could tell him how to help Cas as a friend.

“I’m not a doctor,” Charlie said. “That’s why we found you. But I was a friend for him. He was lonely. I mean, we both were.”

Dean glanced around, wondering how weird he would sound if someone heard him. “Can you help me?” he asked. “I’ve helped Cas a lot as a doctor. Now, I want to help him as a friend.”

Charlie grinned. “Then you’ve come to the right person.”

 


	20. Assignment Twenty

 

Cas was actually happy when Gabe had told him he had called more of the family. And then he felt guilty when he heard Dean snapping at Gabe in the hall. He was glad, though, when Gabe had sent Dean out the front door. Cas wasn’t sure if he could relax with Dean in the house just yet. Plus, being in Sam and Gabe’s company kept him laughing and kept him distracted.

It was funny to watch Gabe climb on Sam and coo about homework and college like it is the sexiest thing. Sam, for the most part, kept a straight face and answered Gabe’s questions with flat sentences. Cas had been around his brother long enough to be able to tell when he was interested, and it was funny to watch him try and fail.

Plus, Sam kept up a near constant stream of coffee into all their mugs, along with creamer and sugar. He studied like a machine, not even stopping for snack breaks. That didn’t bother Cas. He didn’t feel like eating much anyway. Gabe munched on bowls of chips and crackers and popcorn that he scrounged from the kitchen, checking his phone and commandeering Sam’s laptop whenever he got bored enough.  His phone buzzed with a text, and he sat up.

“Gadreel’s almost here,” he stated.

Sam looked up from his text book, squinting his eyes and taking a moment to register what Gabe had said. “What?” he said. “Gadreel? Who’s he?”

“Younger brother to me,” Gabe said. “Older brother to Cas. He’s got Hannah and Anna too I guess. Apparently it’s his weekend with the sisters so they’ll be stopping by too.”

“Hannah?” Sam repeated sleepily, his brain still not comprehending. “Anna? Who are these people?”

“Siblings,” Gabe said and patted Sam’s head. “You’re so cute when you’re stupid.”

“Dude, there will be more of you here?” Sam said. “Where will they stay?”

“A motel,” Gabe said with a shrug. “Not here. Don’t worry. They just want to make sure Cas is okay and everything.”

Sam groaned and rubbed his face with both hands and then sighed. “Sure,” he said. “Whatever. When will they be here?”

“Soon,” Gabe said, jumping out of his seat. He didn’t give any other information as he meandered back to the kitchen to get more food.

“Oh, yeah,” Sam muttered under his breath. “More people, that’s exactly what this house needs. Can barely fit me and Dean. Why don’t we just pile an entire family in here?”

Cas laughed. Sam could be funny if he really wanted.

“Easy for you to laugh at,” Sam said, a teasing twinkle in his eye. “It’s your family. I only have to deal with Dean and even then, he’s gone for most of the day. And I’m at college.”

Cas sipped his coffee distractedly. He liked listening to Sam talk. It was comforting, and Sam never really expected him to talk back which was nice because Cas didn’t want to. And it seemed like Sam liked having one sided conversations with no one in particular. Cas smiled, wondering how many of those conversations Sam had with himself while he was at college.

“Plus,” Sam continued. “Dean helps with cooking and shopping. I doubt Gabe has ever seen a mop before in his life. And he looks like he would burn cereal if he tried pouring it in a bowl.”

Cas snickered at that. It was the truth. Almost. Gabe knew how to make cereal; he basically lived off the stuff. And he usually ordered whatever he could get from local restaurants. If it couldn’t be delivered, Gabe usually didn’t eat it. Cas stiffened when the doorbell rang, glancing up from his lap. Sam sighed and shut his laptop, stacking his notes in a loose pile.

“I guess that would be company,” he muttered. “Gabe! Can you get that?”

“Going!” Gabe called back, already hurrying out of the kitchen.

Cas heard the front door opened and relaxed when he heard the familiar voices.

“I hope you don’t mind the twins. They’re back from their mother’s for the weekend so they had to come with.”

It sounded like Gadreel. And the twins must be Anna and Hannah.

“I heard there was hot boys,” Hannah said, poking her head around the corner. “Oh! And Cas!”

Cas jumped to his feet, setting aside his mug. He smiled and grabbed Hannah in a tight hug, even as she made a face and pretended to be disgusted. He hadn’t seen her in forever. Ever since he left for college, he hadn’t been able to see them even on visitation weekends, and before college, he had worked most days to save up. His younger sisters didn’t know him as well, but Cas was grateful for family.

“You’re smothering me!” Hannah protested, pushing against his shoulders. “Cas, I can’t breathe!”

Cas released her and let her push him away, but she was smiling same as him. Anna popped up behind her, and Cas balked at the red hair. That was new. She must have caught him because she grinned and tugged on it subconsciously.

“Like it?” she said. “I did it at Dad’s. Mamma Milton hates it but there is nothing she can do about it now. It’s red ‘til I’m dead.”

Cas nodded, trying to tell her he liked it. Strong hands wrapped around his chest and pulled him into a smothering embrace. He grinned again when he felt a forehead rest on the top of his head. The hug made him feel small, but at the same time protected.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while, brother,” Gadreel said, his own smile evident on his voice. Cas didn’t even have to look to see it. “Still as small as ever.”

Cas wanted to tease him about not actually being his brother. And about his being tall and huge. Instead, he let himself absorb the warmth like some sort of heat lizard that survived by leaching off other animals. He grinned. He didn’t mind being a heat lizard.

“I swear you got Mom’s genes,” Gabe said grouchily. “Me and Gadreel have the same biological mother,” he explained to a confused Sam. “But he got all the tall genes.”

“Dean complains about the same thing,” Sam muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Gabe told us about Dean,” Hannah said. “Where is he? I want to meet him!”

“Hannah,” Gadreel chided. “I thought we discussed the reason we were coming here on the plane. We’re here for moral support.”

“But you didn’t see Dean’s website,” Hannah said, nudging Anna who nodded in agreement. “I mean, _Dr_. Winchester. Did you see his photos of him all suited up? Lab coat al a _hawt_.” 

Cas felt his cheeks go red. What would his younger sisters say if they knew he had spent the night with Al a Hawt himself, practically naked, _cuddling_. They would demand all the juiciest details, and all those details were the ones that Cas wanted to ignore. So he held onto his smile and laughed as Gadreel reprimanded them for speaking like that.

“That is disrespectful to the doctor,” he said. “He’s studied quite a bit to get his job.”

Anna shrugged. “Doesn’t make him ugly,” she said. “Plus, he’s like, almost the same age as Cas.”

“That’s like dating your brother,” Gabe said, raising his eyebrows. “How is that not weird?”

“It’s totally not weird,” Hannah said. “Besides, maybe if you were a girl, you would see it. Dr. Winchester is totally dateable. Plus, I bet he looks great underneath that suit he wears in his presentational pictures.” She looked to Sam. “Hey, you’re his brother. Tell us, does he work out?”

Sam looked to Cas for help. Cas shrugged the best he could, still weighted down by Gad’s heavy arms. Sam then looked to the two teenage girls who were staring at him expectantly, all but licking their lips at the thought of Dean shirtless.

“Kinda?” Sam offered, deciding apparently in the middle of yes and no. 

“He totally does,” Hannah said, smirking at Anna.

Anna nodded in agreement. “Totally,” she confirmed.

“We should talk about something else,” Gadreel suggested. “Such as getting something to eat. We didn’t eat anything on the plane and I’m sure the twins are hungry. I am.”

“Dean was bringing home pizza,” Sam said. “I can order a couple extra to make sure we have enough.”

“Oh, a pizza delivery man, sexy,” Anna commented.

Gabe gave her a side eye. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.

Hannah smirked. “Top viewed, yet totally censored video on YouTube that trended for eight weeks straight last summer? Then hell to the yes.”

Gabe returned her smirk. “Oh,” he said. “The _censored_ version.”

“We can discuss this later,” Gadreel said. “Privately, of course.” He looked to Sam, raising his eyebrows for help as if to say ‘this is your problem too.’

“Let’s get everyone in the living room,” Sam said, already starting to herd people along. “We can talk more there. Are you tired? Do you need something to drink? I can get you coffee, tea, water—“

“Soda?” Hannah asked, earning a look from Gadreel. “What? He offered.”

“I can get soda,” Sam said. “If everyone can sit down.”

Gadreel sat Cas down between himself and Gabe. Anna and Hannah split the armchair. Sam disappeared into the kitchen to get everyone soda. Cas liked sitting between his older brothers. There was something comforting about it. It was having two people that he knew would protect him no matter what. It gave him a warm tingling feeling in his stomach and loosened up his throat just a little. He felt a little embarrassed when he noticed Anna and Hannah checking out all the family photos sitting around the room, giggling behind their hands.

Sam returned, looking a little exhausted, with his hands full of soda cans. He passed them around and then sank into his seat on the other couch, straightening his papers and tugging his laptop protectively closer.

“Um, introductions?” Gadreel asked, looking a little hesitant about the whole ‘sitting down’ thing.

“Oh!” Gabe said, jumping to do the honors. “That’s Sam. He’s Dean’s brother. And Dean is somewhere. I don’t know, but he mentioned work.”

“Yeah, work,” Sam confirmed.

“This is Gadreel,” Gabe told Sam.  “Like I said, we’re bio brothers. Anna and Hannah Milton, twins. Not related to Gadreel and I or Cas. Anna’s hair is red now though, I guess.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Sam said. “Um, I guess you all came because of Dean?”

“We came because of Cas,” Gadreel said. “But if Dean becomes a problem, we’ll have to talk about him too.”

Sam chewed his lip and stood. “I’m going to order those pizzas,” he said. “Um, do we have any preferences?”

“Plain cheese,” Anna and Hannah said at the same time.

“Anything,” Gadreel answered.

“Okay,” Sam said. “If you’ll excuse me.” He hurried out of the living room, already patting his pockets for a wallet or something similar.

Anna and Hannah each leaned back to check what he looked like from behind. They each shared a knowing grin.

“Girls,” Gadreel said. “Please behave.”

“I’ve seen guys check us out,” Anna said.

“So we check them out in return,” Hannah finished. “I don’t see why that’s so horrible.”

“Just, keep your hands to yourself,” Gadreel said. “And if I catch you trying to feel one of them up, you are going straight back to your Mom’s and I’m going to make sure that your church knows about your guys’ hyperactive sex drive.”

“Mamma Milton recently got involved in the Catholic church,” Hannah told Cas when she caught his look of confusion. “We go to mass and bible study and everything. It was kind of cool until they started telling us about chastity and saving things for marriage.”

Anna made a face and tugged on her hair. “Stuff about natural hair color and whatever. It was great going until you get lectured on what a sinful person you are every Saturday.”

“Tell me about it,” Gabe said with a roll of his eyes.

Gadreel sighed at them all. “Respect, please,” he said. “It does nothing to complain.”

“But it’s fun to complain,” Gabe said. “You girls should spend some time with me. We would have tons of fun together if religion isn’t your forte.”

Anna picked at her nails. “Eh, that would be fun but it would still be just Hannah and I ogling like the sinners we are.”

Gabe leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Oh, honeys,” he said. “Why does it matter if I’m a little different down below? Besides, I’m not blind. Sam’s basically the package deal. You should see him in pajamas.”

Anna’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward too. “Tell me all about it,” she said.

“We’re staying at a motel tonight,” Gadreel declared. “And you two will respect our hosts.”

“Pizza’s coming in half an hour,” Sam said, wandering back into the room as if summoned by the words. He didn’t indicate whether he had heard the conversation or not, just sat down in his usual seat. “And I left a voice mail for Dean telling him that you guys are here.”

“I can’t wait to see him,” Anna said.

Cas smiled even when Gadreel let out an annoyed sigh. He was already happier with his family around him. The joking, the laughs, the teasing—it was definitely something he had missed. Being surrounded by the warm familiarity of them all was like wrapping himself up in one of his giant sweaters with cups of coco and coffee.

This is how he wanted it to be.


	21. Assignment Twenty-One

 

Dean had to admit that Cas’s family wasn’t horrible. They were funny and happy-go-lucky, like Gabe when he wasn’t angry. They laughed easily and didn’t seem to understand personal space.

Cas’s two sisters, black haired Hannah and red haired Anna, had plopped themselves down next to next to Dean the moment he had settled on the couch, one on either side of him, and hadn’t moved since. They giggled and accepted whatever food or drink Sam offered them. They asked Dean a lot of questions about his job and about his schooling. Dean thought they were flirting and felt awkward knowing they were sixteen. Or seventeen, Dean couldn’t remember what Sam had said.

Gadreel wasn’t bad either. He was introduced as Gabe’s biological brother. He was stern with Anna and Hannah but jovial with everyone else. He made jokes and sly remarks that made Cas laugh, so Dean couldn’t help but like him.

Because seeing Cas smile and relax was the best thing to Dean. It was also hard to be not happy when Cas was so happy.

“Sam tells me you are passionate about your work, Dr. Winchester,” Gadreel said.

“It’s hard not to be,” Dean said. “And please, call me Dean. Dr. Winchester is a title I only use on documents. Too formal.”

“Hannah and I were on your website,” Anna said, scooting so that their hips bumped together. “We though your professional photos were nice.”

“You don’t wear the suit and tie all the time?” Anna asked, playing with the seam of his jeans. “It looked so good on the website.”

“I don’t need to look so professional, um, all the time,” Dean said. He shifted away from Anna’s touch, only to end up closer Hannah. “With clients and everything, it’s just, well.”

He glanced to Sam for help and then to Cas. Sam was chatting with Gadreel though, probably discussing something nerdy like books, action figures, and D&D. Gabe was behind him, looking him up and down like he was a centerfold. Cas was smiling behind his mug of . . . . Dean couldn’t remember if it was coffee or tea. He looked happy, but not like he was about to jump to Dean’s rescue. Dean grunted, shifted in his seat, but when he felt fingers creeping down towards the back of his thigh, he jumped up.

“I have to head to the kitchen,” he declared.

He grabbed the empty bowl that used to have chips and hurried out of the room. Was it just his imagination or did he feel the ghost of fingertips on his ass? He shrugged it off, grabbing Gabe’s empty cup along with a couple other dishes. At least the kitchen would provide relative safety, even though he was ninety percent sure Anna and Hannah were staring at his butt as he walked out.

The kitchen was quiet, the living room conversation reduced to a background lull. Dean deposited the dishes into the sink, turning on the water and grabbing the dish soap. He figured no one would miss him for a couple minutes and doing the dishes was a good enough excuse to get away. There were a couple other bowls, plates with grilled cheese grease, and several forks and spoons. As he started scrubbing, the laughing in the living room reached a peak. There was a crash that made him wince and then a small, little “fuck” from Sam. Dean couldn’t stop the smile on his face from spreading as he picked up another bowl and started scrubbing.

There was a clatter behind him as Sam stumbled into the kitchen, probably looking for a towel and napkins to clean up whatever mess Gabe made. Dean grabbed the hand towel he was using to dry dishes and turned, tossing it to him.

“Here,” he said.

It took him two seconds to realize that it was _not_ , in fact, Sam that had walked through the kitchen door. And then, it took him another two seconds to realize that it was, in fact, _Cas_ who had walked through the door. Thankfully, Cas caught the towel before it hit his face and he looked to Dean with a confused smile. At least he didn’t look completely panicked at the sight of Dean. He even politely folded the towel and circled the table to return it to its spot on the counter.

“Uh, hey,” Dean said. His hands and part way up his forearms were covered in bubbles from dish soap, so he was stuck to the sink. But he still nodded a greeting to Cas, watching his face carefully.

Cas nodded back, moving to the cupboards and rummaging around like it was his own house.

“Whatcha looking for?” Dean asked.

Cas pulled down a box of crackers and gave Dean a half smile, even though his eyes were locked on the ground. He shook the box – unopened so far – and closed the cupboard.

“Ah, my secret stash,” Dean said jokingly. Because they were. He thought Sam wasn’t aware of the boxes he shoved to the backs of the cupboards but apparently he was. And now, he had told Cas. “Sam told you about those?”

Cas nodded, glancing back to the living room. Dean could hear Gabe and Gadreel laughing at something. Dean could practically feel Cas’s longing to get back to them. They were obviously his safety blanket. Dean felt horrible for holding him back but he wanted to talk with Cas a little more. Something like, building a bridge again. Trying to connect. Other cheesy therapist jargon.

“Do you want a bowl?” he asked, wiping down the one he had taken from the living room in his retreat.

Cas looked at the bowl, avoided his face, and reluctantly nodded.

“Okay,” Dean said, glad he had this one thing to talk about with Cas. “Well, here. I’ll wash and dry it.”

Was it bad that he took a couple extra moments wiping down the bowl? Bad that he scrubbed at a spot a little longer than necessary even though it was already clean?  Bad that he pretended there was a stain on the bottom of the bowl? Okay, maybe yes. But Dean couldn’t stop himself. Sue him. Just having Cas close to him again, like the time back at the office, was nice. Comforting almost. Even though they didn’t talk. Dean felt a little guilty for tricking Cas into staying near him, but it was worth it. As he handed the newly clean and dry bowl back to Cas, their fingers brushed under the rim.

“There you go,” Dean said.

Cas gave him an appreciative smile, kept his eyes on the floor, and turned to the counter. He opened the box gently because he was Cas and poured them into the bowl. The box was empty way too fast, and then Cas was throwing it away and walking back to the living room.

Dean stood over the sink, not moving for a long moment. It took him a minute to recover—recover?—from that small exchange. And it took him even longer to realize that Cas hadn’t flinched when they had touched.

Was that weird to be excited about?

Yeah, that was weird to be excited about.

Dean couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. Man, did he feel stupid. He picked up another plate and started scrubbing. Geez, what was up with his face? Dean finished the plate and set it aside in the drying rack. He dried his hands on a dish towel and fished his phone out of his pocket, finding Charlie on his contacts list. He thumbed in a quick message with a stupid, dorky smile splitting his face.

_Things are looking up_

He withheld adding a smiley face. Subjecting himself to teenage texting lingo seemed a little too . . . . unprofessional. On the other hand, Charlie was the exact opposite. Their past conversation was littered with emoticons and exclamation points and random caps lock. It was actually amusing compared to his bland responses. She had even included reaction gifs. One of the best things about talking to her was that it never took her long to respond. Right on que, his phone buzzed with a text notification.

_That’s amazing!! :D keep up the good work, Cas always was slow to warm up to new people_

Dean was smiling at his phone. Like a dork. Geez, what was the matter with him? He sent Charlie a quick thank you for being his “friend coach.”

_You’re such a dork ;D just make sure you don’t hurt him . . . . or else lol >:D _

_But seriously. Watch it, doctor_

Dean smirked down at his phone. He respected Charlie a lot. Like, a lot. She was Cas’s friend first and that was who she would always be: someone inevitably more important than Dean. But that didn’t mean Dean couldn’t try.

“Uh, Dean?” Anna called, pulling him away from his phone. “You might want to come in here!”

Great, what had they done now? Dean figured the rest of the dishes could wait while he made sure that the living room wasn’t being burnt down or destroyed. When he entered though, to his surprise, nothing seemed to be on the verge of disaster. He had to hold back a groan, though, when Hannah wolf whistled.

“Wait, wait, go back,” Anna said, waving a hand at him. “Lemme see you come in again.”

Dean rolled his eyes and took a couple steps back, obliging their raging teenage hormones by re-entering the room. He wondered what they saw in his completely not-sexy shuffle-walk.

“Oh, yes, definitely better the second time,” Hannah concluded with a nod and a sly smile as she dragged her gaze up and down Dean’s body.

“Geez-us,” Gadreel said with a roll of his eyes. He braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet with a huge sigh. “We are going to a hotel. Sam? Any suggestions?”

“Of course,” Sam said, eagerly jumping to his feet. Anything to get rid of the girls constantly staring at his ass and crotch. “Let me go get the phone book.”

It only took a couple minutes to locate a room for Gadreel and the twins and then they were sadly saying goodbye. Cas gave each of them a tight hug, lingering on Gadreel, and they promised to come back tomorrow after Sam’s school. “Or whatever time works best,” Gadreel had offered. Dean promised them a phone call, and they were finally out the door. Sam busied himself with cleaning up the left over dishes, and Gabe thankfully helped by straightening the pillows and blankets. And Cas helped return all the family pictures to their original spots.

“So that’s your family, huh?” Dean said, moving alongside Cas to fix a frame a fraction of an inch.

Cas smiled and nodded, his cheeks still flushed from all the laughing.

“They seem . . . . . . . pretty crazy,” Dean said.

Cas’s eyes were shining and he laughed, looking back over his shoulder where the twins had been sitting before. He looked like he was riding a high of endorphins, giggling every couple seconds when he remembered a joke or funny moment. He didn’t even mind when Dean stuck next to him.

“Are they always like that?” Dean pressed, hoping to get a verbal answer out of him.

But Cas smiled and shrugged, holding up his hand, his fingers an inch apart. A little bit, Dean understood. He was a little disappointed that Cas hadn’t spoken, but he pressed on.

“I’m so used to it just being Sam and me,” he said. “Having a crowd like that—well, it’s fun, definitely. But exhausting too.”

“I’m headed to bed,” Sam declared.

Cas glanced to him and nodded his agreement, punctuating it with a yawn that he quickly covered with a hand. In a moment, Gabe swooped in, gathering him up and shoving Dean away.

“Do you want to go to the guest bedroom?” Dean asked before Gabe could completely tear him away.

A moment of fear flashed across Cas’s eyes before Gabe pulled him completely away from Dean.

“No,” Gabe said, answering for Cas. “He doesn’t.”

Cas tapped Gabe’s shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

Dean didn’t want to acknowledge the twinge of jealousy that flipped his stomach. He didn’t want to be petty and jealous but the way Gabe smiled and nodded to whatever Cas said made him grit his teeth before he forced himself to relax.

Cas’s eyes flicked to him and then he nudged Gabe, motioning for him to tell Dean whenever he had just said.

“He says the laundry room is fine,” Gabe said. “But he wants more pillows and blankets. As well as a bowl of chips and a large pepperoni pizza, with onions and jalapenos, extra cheese on half.”

Cas swatted his arm and gave him a playful scowl. It was obvious that the second half hadn’t been part of the original request.

“How are you still hungry?” Sam said.

Gabe gave him a smirk. “I’m a growing boy,” he said.

“The laundry room is perfect! It’s okay,” Dean said before Sam and Gabe could devolve into an argument. “And I can get you a blow up mattress. Sam has one from his camping days, before he went to college.”

“Before I got too busy,” Sam added under his breath.

“I’ll get that for you,” Dean said, probably a little louder than necessary.

He left the room quickly partially because he didn’t want to hear the following conversation and partially because he only vaguely knew where the blow up mattress was in storage. It turned out it was easy to find but he had to go to the garage for a tire pump because there wasn’t a mechanical one with the mattress. And then it took him fifteen minutes alone before he had the thing inflated to the right size and his arms were sore. But it fit in laundry room well enough.

Gabe shoved him out of the room as soon as Dean had the mattress on the floor and bustled Cas inside, making sure Dean had no chance to help further or even offer. And Dean was resigned to plod back upstairs and change into pajamas and settle down in his own room. As he bustled around the bedroom, he could hear Sam and Gabe settled down as well.

There wasn’t much he could do to try to get past Gabe. At least tomorrow Cain would be working at the hives, at least he had something to retreat to. He turned off the lights and climbed under the covers, settling down. As he lay there though, a thought occurred to him. And he started planning.

A family outing to the butterfly gardens with an extra stop at the hives. A family outing between his and Cas’s families. That couldn’t be too bad, could it? Of course, Hannah and Anna got a little over the top at times, but Gadreel seemed like he could control them. They could probably go out to eat just to satisfy Gabe too. And Sam could use a break from his studies.

Yeah, a family outing didn’t sound too bad after all.

 


	22. Assignment Twenty-Two

 

“I’ve never been to a butterfly house,” Gabe declared for the umpteenth time, almost bouncing in the back seat. “When do we get there?”

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Sam replied through gritted teeth. He hadn’t been enthusiastic about skipping all his classes as Dean had thought.

“Let’s just try to stay civil,” Dean said. “Let’s just . . . . . . . turn on the music.” He leaned forward and flipped on the radio. Thankfully, he had the impala tuned into a classic rock station twenty-four seven. And then he learned that not everyone in the car was a fan of classic rock.

“No, no, please! My ears!” Gabe moaned. “Spare me!”

He crawled out of the backseat and into the front, his hips and legs in the back and his head, torso, and arms in the front. Cas started laughing while Sam looked like he wanted to throw Gabe out the nearest window. Dean almost ran the car off the road as Gabe elbowed his way to the radio.

“Geez,” he growled, correcting himself in his lane.

“Just wait a moment,” Gabe said, squinting his eyes and sticking his tongue between his lips in concentration as he changed the station on the radio. When the speakers were blasting some throbbing, electronic, hip hop beat, he slid back to his seat with a content smile. “This is more like it.”

“Oh, hell no,” Dean said. He took his eyes off the road as he tried to find his old station. “We are not listening to that the whole time.”

“But I hate your music!” Gabe whined. “It gives me a headache!”

“How can you hate the classics?” Dean said. “They’re _classics_!”

“Well, then I hate the classics,” Gabe said stubbornly. He was halfway in the front seat again, making a grab at the radio. “I like twentieth century music, thank you very much.”

“Well of course _you_ do,” Dean said, smacking his hands away from the knob so he could turn it back to his music. “You have hardly half a brain to think with.”

“Okay! Enough!” Sam exploded. He slammed the radio off and somehow managed to glare at both Dean and Gabe at the same time. “No music! We can quietly contemplate life until we get to the bug place.”

“Butterfly House,” Gabe corrected under his breath as he sullenly sunk back into his seat. He hunched his shoulders over and stuck out his lower lip.

And they all sat in an awkward silence.

Sam stared out his window.

Dean stared at the road.

Gabe crossed his arms and bounced his foot off the back of Dean’s seat.

Cas chewed his lip and nervously shifted his gaze between Dean and his own window.

And then he started humming.

Dean glanced at him through the rear view mirror in surprise. It was a song he recognized, a “classic” that Gabe would totally opposed to. Lean on Me by Bill Withers. It was just the few first soft notes, and after the two lines, Dean almost expected Cas to give up. But he took a deep breath and started humming louder. And Sam started tapping out the beat on his armrest, subconsciously or not it wasn’t clear. At the end of the first verse, Gabe was bobbing his head, and when the chorus rolled around, he burst out singing.

“Lean on me!” he belted. “When you’re not strong!”

Cas grinned and hummed louder. Dean smiled and joined in singing.

“And I’ll be your friend. I’ll help you carry on! For it won’t be long ‘til I’m gonna need someone to lean on.”

Gabe dropped out at the end of the chorus without warning, and Dean shocked himself by singing the entire second verse solo with Cas backing him up humming.

“Please, swallow your pride, if I have things you need to borrow. For no one can fill those of your needs that you won’t let show.”

Gabe jumped back in on the chorus, and even Sam joined this time, smiling as the jaunty tune and words filled the car. Cas was beaming in the back seat.

“You just call on me, brother, when you need a hand. We all need somebody to lean on!”

As the last notes trickled off, they all laughed at the impromptu karaoke session and how well it had turned out. All tension flooded out the window.

“Okay, Gabe Mr. I-hate-the-classics,” Dean said. “What was that?”

“Lean on Me _is_ a classic,” Sam confirmed.

“Uh, duh,” Gabe said with a roll of his eyes. “Have you ever seen the paper towel commercials?”

Dean nearly groaned. Of course the only way Gabe knew an old song was because it was in a damn commercial. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it had Cas giggling behind a hand. So maybe this wasn’t so bad. The trip could be salvaged. Sam was less grumpy now. They weren’t arguing over music at least. And finally, finally, they pulled into the Butterfly House’s parking lot before another fight could break loose.

“We’re here,” he happily announced as he shifted the impala into park.

Immediately, everyone was spilling out and stretching their legs. Dean watched as Gadreel pulled up and parked next to them, and he couldn’t help but sigh when he saw Anna and Hannah in the back seat. This time, they came equipped with phones it looked like. What a fantastic day it would be.

“Do tickets cost anything?” Gadreel asked as they all started toward the main entrance.

Dean kept an eye as he answered. “Like, ten bucks a person. I can cover yours and the twins if you need.”

Gadreel waved away his offer though as they stepped inside the building. “I’ve got this,” he said, letting the receptionist swipe the card he handed over and scribbling his name on the receipt when prompted. Dean felt a little guilty, but when he noticed Anna and Hannah out of the corner of his eye, sneaking their phones into camera mode and centering him in the shot, he kinda understood why.

Maybe he regretted bringing the twins.

“Woah! They have a tarantula here?!” Gabe exclaimed, barely sitting still to let his wrist band be secured. “And we get to hold it?!”

Maybe Dean also regretted bringing Gabe as well.

Cas was smiling though, clutching his own phone tight as he followed Gabe into the halls of the exhibits. Dean and Gadreel were next. Anna and Hannah eager took to spot behind Dean, and Sam brought up the rear, safely out of the way of the twins’ cameras.

And there was indeed a tarantula. A fist sized arachnid that Gabe immediately started ogling over with an intense fascination until the handler actually offered it to him to hold. And then he jumped back with a sound of disgust, his smile melting away with fear. Cas took his place instead, eyes gleaming with amazement and awe as the handler offered the spider to him.

“Her name is Rosie,” the worker said, letting the tarantula crawl from her fingers to Cas’s.

Cas quickly tucked his phone in his pocket so that he could cradle Rosie in both hands. He was beaming as she happy explored his hands, eventually making her way up his wrists. He had worn a lighter blue sweater with black jeans, usual garb that he used to wear to their sessions. Now, Dean knew it was basically his armor. Rosie found plenty of grip on the fabric and quickly made her way up to his shoulder.

“Oh!” the handler said, buzzing around Cas fretfully. “We shouldn’t let her on your face. She’s tame mostly but we shouldn’t risk it.”

Dean grinned as Cas skillfully guided Rosie away from his face. She hung happily from his chest, content with that position it seemed. Cas eased his phone back out of his pocket and opened the camera, snapping a couple selfies of himself with Rosie sitting directly over his heart. Then he let the handler take her back and stepped to the side to let someone else take his place. His eyes drifted automatically to Dean. The handler caught his glance and offered Dean Rosie.

“Are you next?” she asked, basically handing Rosie over the spot.

“Oh,” Dean said, fumbling a little when he felt the fuzzy feet on his palm. “Um, he’s – she’s not dangerous, is she? I mean like, biting?”

“Tarantulas do have a painful bite,” the handler said. “But Rosie is used to being held. She’s hardly ever aggressive and she’s used to people holding her.”

Dean swallowed, cupping his hands like Cas had done. Rosie didn’t seem as enthusiastic about him holding her, probably because Dean was wearing short sleeves and she had nowhere to climb. She sat contentedly in his hands, occasionally poking at his fingers with her mandibles. Dean hat to admit she was cute. Ish. In a buggy, hairy sort of way. But he was holding her like a pro, not panicking or anything. He proudly looked up, aware that he was smiling like a dork again, and automatically focused on Cas’s phone as he snapped a picture of Dean holding Rosie.

“Alright, let’s let everyone have a turn,” the handler said, gently scooping Rosie up out of Dean’s hands.

Gadreel went next, letting Rosie perch on the back of his hand. He made a face of mock horror and posed as Cas took several photos. Anna and Hannah tittered behind his shoulders, too nervous to actually hold Rosie but wanting to get close enough for a photo.

Sam took a turn, and Cas took more pictures. Sam tried to pass Rosie off to Gabe then, but he straight up refused again. He crossed his arms and stuffed his hands into his armpits, shaking his head no vehemently. He hid behind Anna and Hannah who both giggled and gathered the courage to gently stroke their fingers along Rosie’s back.

“Nuh-uh,” Gabe said as they returned Rosie to the handler and walked out of the room. “Too many legs for me.” He shuddered and shouldered his way closer to Sam.

“Butterflies are next,” Dean said, aware that he sounded like a tour guide. But he had been here so many times that he basically knew every path already. And he knew that beyond the butterflies were the bees.

He wanted to rush through the garden paths and go straight to the hives, but the butterflies turned out to be a bigger hit than Rosie. Anna and Hannah oohed and aahed at the bright colors and patterns on the wings with Gadreel’s supervision. Cas pointed out all the camouflage ones that Dean would’ve normally skipped over. Sam maintained his position at the back of the group, but this time he was joined by Gabe who linked their arms together so they could walked side by side. And Sam didn’t even pull away. Dean grinned but didn’t comment.

Instead, he distracted himself by actually looking at the butterflies. Usually, he rushed past, going straight to the bees but now. Well, now, he stopped to admire a black and orange butterfly that was normal butterfly size. Not too creepy and not too crawly. Just right, in Dean’s opinion.

“Monarch. Butterfly.”

Dean turned at the computerized voice. And blinked in confusion when he saw Cas. Holding his phone. Clutching it tight and to his chest. He was looking shyly at Dean’s stomach, not meeting his gaze. He held out his phone and tapped the screen.

“Monarch. Butterfly.”

A text-to-speech app, Dean realized after a moment. A hesitantly extended olive branch on Cas’s part. And it took Dean another moment that Cas was telling him the name of the butterfly he had just been looking at. Orange and black. Monarch butterfly. He smiled carefully.

“I bet you know all of them by name,” he said. “Huh?”

Cas typed quickly into his phone, his cheeks going a bit pink.

“Not. All. Of. Them. But. Most.”

Dean grinned and scanned the foliage around them, searching for another butterfly. He spotted one perched precariously on the edge of a wide leaf a little above eye level. It was a crimson-y orange, its wings spikier than the monarch’s. He pointed to it, looking to Cas.

“What’s that one?”

Cas smiled as he typed into his phone.

“Question. Mark. Butterfly.”

“Okay,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “Now you’re just jerking my chain. There is no way that is called a _question mark_ butterfly.”

Cas’s tongue slipped out the corner of his mouth in concentration as he typed at his phone. After a moment, he turned his phone around so that Dean could see the screen.

And there it was. A Wikipedia article no less. A picture of the orange butterfly identical to the one on the leaf above them and it was indeed labelled as the Question Mark Butterfly. Dean rolled his eyes as Cas beamed in triumph.

“Okay, smarty pants,” Dean said. He went back to scanning the leaves. “Let’s see if you can get this next one.”

It didn’t take half as long to find the huge bug perched on a tree a little ways away. It was gigantic compared to the Monarch and the Question Mark. Dean shuddered as its wings opened and closed lazily. It was bigger than his hand, and Dean promised himself that if it took off, fuck being a brave friend, he was running.

Cas typed quickly on his phone.

“Jamaican. Giant. Swallowtail.”

 “Okay, I believe you!” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “You know them all!”

Dean wondered, idly, if Cas knew about the butterflies buzzing in his stomach.

Cas gave an embarrassed shrug, glancing back over his shoulder to check where Gabe was. Surprisingly, they were alone. They could hear Anna and Hannah a path over maybe, oohing over a butterfly. Gadreel was telling them not to touch. Dean wasn’t sure where Gabe and Sam had wandered off to, but he wasn’t too worried. He trusted Sam enough. He was mainly worried about Cas.

Did he feel scared? Nervous? Should Dean back off and leave him alone? Find Gabe or Gadreel? Someone who made Cas feel safe?

But Cas didn’t look on edge. He was back to typing at his phone with a look of intense concentration, backspacing and retyping at he went. Finally, he presented his phone to Dean again.

“My. Class. Came. Here. Before. On. A. Trip. Have. You. Been. To. The. Hives.”

Dean bit his lip, wondering if he should spill his secret life. Tell Cas that he was studying bees to be his friend. That he run up quite the bill paying for multiple tickets every week. Hell, he basically knew most of the workers by name at this point, and they knew him too. As the lonely man who stopped by to watch the bees, probably, but knew him nonetheless.

“A couple times,” he said.

Cas nodded, already typing something else on his phone.

“We. Should. Find. The. Others. And. Go. See. Them. They. Are. My. Favorite.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “I figured you would know about the bees. Let’s find Gabe and Sam and the others.”

They only had to turn a corner to find Gadreel and then walk a little ways down the path to find Anna and Hannah admiring a metallic blue butterfly. Cas had the name in his phone before Dean had the chance to open his mouth.

“Morpho. Butterfly.”

“It’s so pretty,” Anna gushed, practically shoving her phone in the butterfly’s face.

“I bet I could get my eyeshadow to look like its wings,” Hannah said. She winked at Cas. “It would be perfect for people with blue eyes.”

“Cas wanted to go to the bees,” Dean blurted before they could get into a discussion over makeup and colors. “So, we can head over there whenever everyone is ready.”

Anna smiled and flounced passed him. “Whatever you say, doctor,” she said. Hannah was right on her heels, giving him a suggestive smirk.

Gadreel rolled his eyes. “Girls,” he warned as he fell into step behind them.

Cas moved to follow them, but Dean frowned.

“What about Sam and Gabe?” he asked. He didn’t hear them at all on the paths so they must’ve wandered pretty far away. And Dean figured Cas would want more of his family to keep him company.

But Cas shook his head with a knowing smile before typing on his phone.

“They’re. Doing. Their. Own. Thing. Leave. Them. Be.”

Dean shrugged. “If you insist,” he said. Besides, he was eager to get into the hive room. It was where he felt most comfortable, not out in the butterfly gardens.

Cas nodded eagerly and moved quickly after Gadreel. Dean scanned the gardens one last time, looking for the top of Sam’s head through the leaves. That was usually how he found the giant at the grocery store. This time though, he had no such like. With no other choice, he followed Cas in the direction of the hives.

Anna and Hannah didn’t seem to be impressed as impressed with the bees as they had been with the butterflies. But the moment Cas stepped foot in the room, his eyes went wide and he hurried to the center hive, brushing his fingers over the Plexiglas. He had his phone back out, taking pictures of the bees and the counter and the hives, taking pictures of everything.

Dean smiled as he watched him and couldn’t help but put a mental check mark in the success box in his mind. Charlie was right. Well, duh she was right. What a friend coach. Similar interests, check. Dean nearly jumped when Gadreel patted him on his shoulder.

He was smiling, side eyeing the twins to make sure they didn’t hurt anything. “You’ve done well,” he said. “Cas is – well, he was going through some tough things.” He tapped his chest. “Different moms, so we weren’t close but there was always something . . . . off. But he’s – I see a difference, that’s all.”

A difference. Dean saw it too. Cas was smiling. Not fake smiling or going through the motions. Real smiling, with his phone out and his camera pointed, snapping pictures and laughing with Anna and Hannah. Even without Gabe he was more relaxed, not so strung out and wound up.

A difference.

And Dean was helping.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you are interested [click here ](https://youtu.be/N5jlPL1tNDY?t=39s) to see what Dean was thinking of! 
> 
> Or you could click [here](https://youtu.be/5cdqOkso3uQ) to see what Gabe was thinking of ^-^


	23. Assignment Twenty-Three

“I need to catch bees,” Dean declared to Sam.

Cas was out with his family. Gadreel and the twins were leaving tonight so they were going out to eat. Gabe had bragged that he had found some vegetarian place that Cas would love and they had been out the door before Dean could offer money or help. So they were eating lunch and having a day on the town before Gadreel and the twins had to leave. And Dean was stuck at home.

Now, Sam was giving him a strange look.

“Um, okay?” he said. “There’s gotta be some sort of net in the garage. Use that. What do you need my help for?”

“Do we have any jars?” Dean asked. “Or something else to keep them in?”

“Mason jars are in the cupboard by the stove,” Sam answered, burying his face in his textbook. He was taking full advantage of the time spent apart from Gabe to get as much work done as possible. “Please don’t say you need me to drive you to the park.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “No,” he said in a duh sort of tone. “But I’m going to be buying a fish tank and some other stuff from the pet store.”

Sam picked up his book and shoved it against his face with a loud moan before face planting on the table. He stayed there for a second before sighing. “Sure, go ahead,” he said, his words slightly muffled. “But I get a thirty minute nap before I get dragged along on another crazy trip.”

Dean grinned. “How about a thirty minute nap _and_ eight hours tonight?” he said.

Sam moaned again. “That sounds like a dream,” he said. “I would love you forever.”

“Then be prepared to love me forever,” Dean said. “Because tonight I’ll make sure you get the entire REM cycle.”

Sam sat up and brushed his bangs away from his face. “That sounds like a therapist gimmick, but I’m down with it,” he said. “Go catch bees or whatever. Text me when you’re coming home.”

“I’ll try to be back before Cas and them,” Dean promised, already grabbing his jacket and keys. “I won’t leave you alone.”

“That’s a nice thought,” Sam said. “I wish nice thoughts would help me pass my finals.”

Dean cringed, already halfway out the door. “You know you’re amazing, right?” he said. “Seriously, Sam, you’re the best brother anyone could ever have. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Sam snorted. “No, I haven’t been told that,” he said sarcastically. “Why? Is it important?”

“You _are_ important,” Dean said, stepping back inside the house so that Sam knew he had his full attention. “And I know it was selfish to bring Cas here without asking you first and how much strain that has put on your studies. Especially Gabe. I want you to know how much that means to me. It’s a lot. It means the _world_.”

“It’s not completely selfish,” Sam said, finally looking up from his book. “You needed to help Cas. And you did. I mean, he’s grown in leaps and bounds. And Gabe isn’t half annoying when he has something to occupy his mouth. I don’t mean to be such a drag all the time either.”

“You have school, I get that,” Dean quickly cut in. He didn’t want Sam to feel bad for focusing on his studies. “I’ll try to keep everyone out of your way tonight. I promise.”

Sam was smiling now. “Thanks,” he said. “Because a couple hours of quiet study would be a dream.”

Dean smiled back. “You got it,” he said. “I won’t let you down.”

“Oh, and Dean?” Sam called as he started out the door again.

“Yeah?”

“Make sure Cas changes his bandages,” Sam said, tapping his own wrist. “You don’t want infection.”

Dean gulped but nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Sam was already back to his books as Dean finally made it out the door. A quick search of the garage did, in fact, yield a butterfly net that looked like it was made for a child. It was the best Dean had. He shoved it in the passenger seat as he climbed into the impala and back out into the street. Before heading to the park, he stopped by the local pet store to pick up a fish tank, hamster bedding, and another butterfly net. Then he walked next door to the flower shop and picked out some daisies in a short pot. In the parking lot, on the hood of his car, he assembled it all into a half assed version of what Cas had brought to the office when he had captured his own bees. It didn’t look half bad. All that was missing was a bowl of sugar water that Dean could easily add later.

And then he called Charlie.

She answered on the first ring.

“What’s up, doc?” she chirped, sounding like she was decidedly _not_ stressed out about finals. Probably the exact opposite of Sam.

“I want to catch bees,” he said, trying to one handedly load his bee cage into the back seat of the impala.

“Oh! Cas loved catching bees. He did it for a school project once,” Charlie said.

“But I need help,” Dean said.

“Damn right you do,” Charlie said before he could go on. “Which park are you at? I’ll come right away!”

“That’s what I was hoping,” Dean admitted. He gave her a name and directions as he climbed behind the wheel. “I’m not distracting you from finals or anything? Right?”

“What I _need_ is a distraction from finals,” Charlie said. “You’re basically saving my life. I was about to rip my calculus book in half. I’ll meet you there!”

She hung up before Dean could say anything else so he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the parking lot. By the time he got to the park, Charlie was already waiting for him, her book bag at her feet and an eager smile on her face. She waved when she saw him through the windshield, and he waved back. He parked as quickly as he could and grabbed the nets as he slid out.

“Cas used to love catching bees,” Charlie said, grabbing the net that Dean offered. “He’d drag me here all the time.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, he caught some to show me and then something happened to them.” He swallowed hard. “I wanted to make it up to him somehow.”

Charlie nodded sagely. “Bees are basically Cas’s therapy,” she said and then grimaced, correcting herself. “I mean, after you.”

“No, I get it,” Dean said. “Nowadays, I feel like I’m more of a burden to him than anything.” He sighed. And then realized he was probably bringing the mood down. “Sorry.”

“If you’re worried about Cas, that makes you a good person,” Charlie said as Dean grabbed the fish tank out of the backseat.

“That’s the thing,” Dean said, leading the way across the lawn. “It’s hard to tell if I’m still worried about him . . . . . or if I’m more worried about myself.”

Charlie smiled and twirled her net. “How about we catch bees,” she said. “And discuss the problems of the universe later.”

Dean smiled at her reasoning. It sounded like the perfect plan. “We have to be gentle,” he said as he set up his stuff under a tree. “I’m guessing if we startle them too much, they’ll sting. And every bee sting—“

“Is a bee death,” Charlie finished. “And we certainly don’t want that.” She grinned. “I guess Cas has gotten to both of us, huh?”

“Sounds like it,” Dean said and hefted his net. “Now, let’s catch some bees.”

Two hours, many grass stains, and multiple sweat spots later, Dean realized just how difficult catching bees actually was. He and Charlie had caught three bumble bees so far and that was it. Dean wasn’t sure how Cas managed to do it by himself. It was exhausting. It took another hour and a half to catch another two bees before calling it quits. They collapsed under the tree, next to the fish tank.

“So, what’s up with Cas?” Charlie said, watching a group of college kids with a Frisbee. “How’s he doing?”

“Um, he’s there,” Dean said. “Doing better. _A lot_ better. Seriously. We went to the butterfly house yesterday and we all had a great time.”

“Awe, Cas _loves_ the butterflies,” Charlie said. “He always gushed over them.”

“And the bees,” Dean felt compelled to add, not wanting his hours spent with Cain to go to waste.

Charlie winked at him. “And you.”

Dean felt his neck go hot and he shifted, embarrassed. “No,” Was his first response. “He’s not—well, he’s opening up. I pushed him too fast.”

Charlie snorted. “Cas needs to be pushed,” she said. “You are pushing him in a good way.”

Dean swallowed and sat back on his hands. “I want to push him,” he admitted. “But I—he’s with his family and he seems so happy, and then I’m here and—I want to push him but I don’t . . . . . . . . .want him . . . . . I don’t want him to go anywhere.”

Charlie rested her hand on top of his. “I get it,” she said. “You’re scared.”

Dean recoiled, immediately bristling at the accusation. He wanted to protest against the words but then Charlie continued on before he could say a word.

“You don’t want to think of the day when Cas doesn’t need you anymore,” she said.

Dean felt the lump in his throat grow.

“I mean, if that’s not scary, I don’t know what is,” she said. “Look, Dr. Winchester, Dean, whatever, I don’t know how it is in the world of therapy world, but losing a best friend? Fuck, that hurts. It doesn’t matter who you are.”

Dean surprised even himself when he felt tears on his cheeks. He sniffed and dragged the heel of his hands across his face. “I’m not—I’m not—“ The words choked in his throat. He swallowed and coughed and managed to finally spit them out. “I’m not supposed to care this much. I’m not supposed to be this involved.”

Charlie rubbed his back and scooted forward, tugging him so that they leaned against each other. “With Cas, things are never halfway,” she said. “He’s an all-in kind of guy. You don’t get half involved with him.”

Dean groaned, grinding his fists against his eyes. It really did nothing to stop the tears. He felt pathetic when Charlie hugged him closer.

“Cas is like this giant being with ten different faces and a breathtaking amount of power,” she went on. “He doesn’t do small talk or niceties. He wants to discuss the universe and understand every part of it. He’s like a gift in the form of a human being.”

“I’m selfish,” Dean said, growling out the words between gritted teeth. “Dammit, I don’t want to let him go. If he gets better—if he gets better, he’ll leave.”

“Cas _won’t_ leave,” Charlie said, squeezing his arm. “He knows what it’s like to be abandoned and he won’t abandon you.”

“I’m evil,” Dean choked out.

“You’re not evil,” Charlie said sternly. “It’s not that you don’t want him to get better, it’s that you don’t want to be alone. No one wants to be alone. Certainly not you, and certainly not Cas.”

Dean took a deep breath and managed to pull his tears back. “Geez, I’m falling apart.”

Charlie laughed. “And coming back stronger,” she said. “Because that’s how humans work. Come on, you’re the therapist here.”

Dean felt a twinge of guilt at the words but her tone was teasing. He was suddenly aware that she still had her arm around him, and he startled, shrugging her off.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just—with Cas—I mean, I shouldn’t be with you. Er, _with_ with you. Not that you aren’t—I mean—“

“Relax,” Charlie said, letting him skooch away. “Basically everyone knows that I . . . . . . play for the other team.”

Dean frowned. “What team?”

Charlie gave him an amused look. “I like girls,” she stated plainly.

Dean immediately felt stupid, and then embarrassed as his face went hot. “Oh,” he said and then continued babbling because he wasn’t sure what to say. “Uh, yeah, I mean, that’s fine. I’m not judging you. Does Cas—never mind, you’re fine. I’m just stupid.”

“It’s fine,” Charlie said. “I already get shit for it.”

Dean frowned. “Cas?”

Charlie quickly shook her head. “No,” she said. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons we became such good friends so fast. I was the queer outcast; he was the awkward outcast. What else goes together better?”

Dean grinned at her and sniffed back the last of his tears, wiping his eyes one last time. “You’re honestly the best,” he said. “For Cas. For me. For everyone.”

Charlie snored. “I try to live through positivity,” she said. “No point in making people feel bad about themselves for the stuff they like. Life’s too short for shit like that.”

Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Cas won’t leave you,” Charlie went on. “Just like I won’t make fun of you for wanting to catch bees.”

Dean glanced at the fish tank. “Speaking of,” he said. “I’d better get these guys home. They need sugar water I think.”

“Something like that,” Charlie said, pushing herself to her feet. “Cas has only kept bees a couple times. Just don’t let them die or else then you have a crisis on your hands. Wait. You _are_ showing Cas these, right?”

“That was the plan,” Dean said, tucking his net under his arm so he could pick up the tank as he stood. “Pay him back for the ones that his brother killed.”

“Then a bit of advice,” Charlie said, leading the way back toward where he had parked. “He’s going to want names. He nearly always names them.”

Dean nodded. “You are just full of great advice,” he said.

Charlie shot him finger guns and a wink. “Stick with me, kid,” she said. “You’ll learn all the ins and outs of being someone’s college best friend.”

“Which is something I totally missed out on,” Dean said, carefully loading the bees into the back seat of the impala. He winced when they buzzed in agitation.

“Don’t worry,” Charlie reassured, climbing into her own car. “That’s what I’m here for. Oh! And don’t forget the names!”

“I won’t!” Dean called, waving to her as she pulled out and drove off. He looked down at the bees and muttered to himelf, “How about Troy, Gabby, Ashley, Lucas, and . . . . . . Chad?”

The bees settled down a bit now that their new, temporary home wasn’t moving. Dean figured he could think of better names later. At the moment, they needed sugar water more.


	24. Assignment Twenty-Four

Dean stared at the tank on the dresser, watching intently as the bees climbed up and down the flower stems. He was slowly convincing himself that he could tell the difference between them all. He was ninety percent sure that Chad had one less stripe than the others. Then again, the internet told him that all worker bees were female so half the names he had chosen didn’t really even work out.

The house was quiet. He had been surprised when he had called Sam after the outing with Charlie and found out that Cas and Gabe weren’t home yet.

He had picked up Chinese in hopes that they could at least have one last meal together, their families. Now though, he was left with an excess of sesame chicken and no Cas. It sucked.

Sam was still downstairs studying. Dean had mentioned Charlie and her own finals, and Sam had barely grunted in response. He was way too focused.

And Dean was way too bored.

Not bored enough to think of new names for the bees, but bored enough that folding the last load of laundry actually seemed appealing. He was just about to head off to do just that when he heard the unmistakable click of the front door opening and the soft lull of voices. Dean could hear Gabe at least; had Gadreel and the twins left already?

He pushed off the guest bed, made sure the top of the tank was on tight, and hurried out of the room.

“Heya, Sammy,” he heard Gabe say. “We brought you tofu and kale noodles. It was rated five stars on the menu and Anna liked it.”

“Sounds great,” Sam said absentmindedly. He was still very much buried in his studies.

“Oh, Dean,” Gabe said as he stepped into the living room. “We brought you some of the tortilla chips they had on the table. Unsalted.” He held up the bag.

“No, I ate,” Dean said, biting back a retort about the unfairness of doggy bags. “Hey, Cas, how’s everything?”

Cas nodded, pulling off his coat. While it was getting warmer, he still seemed stuck on long sleeves. It wasn’t surprising considering . . . . . considering everything. His shirt sleeve rode up a bit as he finished pulling off his coat, revealing a flash of white bandages. The same thought must’ve crossed Sam’s mind that crossed Dean’s because he looked up from his books.

“You should probably get clean bandages on your arms tonight,” he said. “Infection and all. Heat those noodles up, Gabe, I’m hungry after hours of studying.”

Gabe gave Dean a side eye but scurried off to the kitchen to reheat the food he had brought for Sam. Cas kicked off his shoes and cinched up his sleeves a couple more inches, unabashedly showing off the bandages. Dean gulped.

“Do you want to wait for Gabe?” he asked, glancing to Sam for some sort of help. No luck, he was still deep in his books.

Cas stared down at his wrists and then, to Dean’s surprise, shook his head. He gestured to the bathroom with an eyebrow raised.

“You want _me_?” Dean said.

Cas shrugged, starting toward the bathroom. Dean followed, albeit definitely perplexed. When Cas reached to grab the door knob and Dean saw his shaking hand, he pulled full stop.

“Cas I can’t do this,” he blurted. “Not if you don’t trust me. You don’t have to force yourself. Gabe will be done in three minutes tops and then he can—“

Cas grabbed his wrist tight and pulled him into the bathroom with a shake of his head. Immediately, Dean went for the door. Cas shoved his foot in the way. He wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes as he tugged up his shirt sleeves all the way to the elbow. Dean grabbed his hands without thinking, just wanting some way to get Cas to stop.

“Don’t do this,” he pleaded. “You aren’t obligated to.”

Cas looked at him.

Blue eyes flooded with a mix of fear and determination.

He moved Dean’s hands to the bandages, carefully picking open the end and beginning to peel it open. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes followed Cas’s movement. Slowly, bit by bit, Dean worked up the courage to move his fingers on his own, helping peel back the bandages as well.

The cuts were healing well. Less red and aggravated. They were scabbed over, the majority of them completely closed. It was odd seeing them like this.

The base level was all neat and orderly, grotesquely so. From white and pearly to just-healed pink. The ones on top were what made Dean swallow.

They were the scratches that Cas had clawed into himself. Mostly scabs by now thankfully. They were shallow enough that they wouldn’t scar after they healed, leaving only the perfect ones underneath. Like some sick poetry. There was only one that would leave a definite scar.

The gash Cas had left in his arm with the piece of glass. Against the other scars, it stood out red and angry. It would definitely leave a mark, thick and gnarled. Nothing like the thin pearly ones left by a box knife.

“We need medicine,” Dean said, his voice cracking at the last word. He cleared his throat. “Antiseptic.”

Cas nodded, holding his arms still and out. His hands were clenched into tight fists to stop Dean from seeing him shake.

Dean hurried to find the tube of medicine and squeezed some out onto his fingers. He hesitated, though, when it came to applying it. Was he supposed to touch Cas? His mind screamed no, but Cas was waiting expectantly.

“I – I’m going to rub it in,” he said, not wanting to startle Cas.

He only nodded, keeping his gaze down.

Dean cradled one arm – the one without the gash – and as gently as he could, smeared the antiseptic along the scabs. He went slowly and carefully, no wanting to break any open. Cas seemed to relax under his ministrations and Dean did too. By the time he was done with the first arm, he was confident enough to look at the gash without flinching. He repeated the same system, and the cuts did look better than before.

“Now fresh bandages,” he muttered, just to let Cas know where he was going as he turned back to the cupboards.

Cas stayed where he was, held still when Dean wrapped his arms. And just like that, red disappeared under white. Gone again, hidden from the world. Cas’s hands relaxed as soon as Dean fastened the ends of the bandages tight.

“All done,” Dean said and stepped back, pausing to see what Cas would do.

He stared at his forearms, still raised in front of him, not moving for a long moment. Then he tugged down his sleeves so that the bandages were out of sight and turned to the door, opening it and slipping out without a word. Dean sighed too.

He had been hoping Cas would speak. But showing Dean his arms – and all the scars to boot – was probably exhausting already. Dean was proud that Cas had come so far. Quickly, he washed his hands of the antiseptic and joined Cas, Sam, and Gabe in the living room.

Sam was scarfing down the noodles Gabe had brought home, finally deeming it important enough to put away his books and laptop. In fact, he had his feet propped up on the coffee table and was listening to Gabe talk about how hot their waitress had been.

“For a vegan chick,” Gabe concluded as Dean plopped himself down in his chair.

“This is good for vegan food,” Sam said, slurping up the last of the noodles. “Gadreel and them already gone?”

Gabe nodded. “We dropped them off at the airport,” he said. “Had a nice long, heartfelt goodbye. It was touching really.”

Cas snickered behind one of his hands.

Sam grinned at him. “Gabe cried, didn’t he?”

“I got _dust_ in my eyes,” Gabe snapped sarcastically. “Damn right I cried, it’s my family too! You act like I’m an insensitive beast.”

“Well you’re not exactly Mr. Water Works,” Sam said, setting aside his plastic bowl. “Or Mr. Romantic. Or Mr. Anything With Feelings.”

“Oh, you want to see romantic?” Gabe said, giving Sam a look that Dean was uncomfortable witnessing. A look that suggested he wanted to do more with Sam, preferably with less clothes.

Dean purposefully looked away.

Cas let out a gusty sigh and rolled his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet. He gestured to the back rooms and then tugged his shirt. He wanted to change.

Dean wasn’t sure if he was supposed to give him permission or not but he nodded anyway. He was debating whether or not he should retreat upstairs as well before Gabe decided that clothes were no longer necessary. He stood and hurried upstairs, telling himself that pajamas were okay to wear at five. They weren’t going anywhere else today so it seemed fine. Cas was probably putting on his own pajamas anyway, so Dean wouldn’t be alone.

He changed in his bedroom and just finished pulling on a t-shirt when he heard footsteps on the stairs. He frowned and tilted his head. He could hear Sam and Gabe’s voices downstairs, so it wasn’t them. Cas? Dean didn’t want to let himself hope. He pulled off his socks and whoever it was made their way down the hall to the guest bedroom. Dean heard the click of the light switch and held his breath.

The bees were in the guest bedroom.

He had figured Cas would sleep on the couch, not upstairs. He hadn’t been upstairs since the time he had woken up next to Dean and the room obviously held bad memories. Dean strained to hear a reaction, holding his own breath.

There was the softest gasp. Followed by a vocalized “oh” – the most Dean had heard Cas speak in days. He couldn’t help it. He slipped out of his bedroom and tiptoed the few steps to the doorway of the guest room.

Cas was staring at the tank, hands over his mouth. Dean felt his stomach sink when he saw tears in his eyes. Something was wrong. A lump formed in his throat.

He thought he had been quiet but Cas turned, looking straight at him, blue eyes glistening.

Dean swallowed, taking a small step back. He wasn’t supposed to be watching. He and Cas were alone. Alarms and warning flags were going off in his mind, but Cas didn’t look scared. His hands dropped away from his mouth. And he was smiling.

“Dean,” he said.

His voice was gravelly from disuse, sounding like a bad cough. At first, Dean thought he imagined it until Cas laughed and said it again.

“Dean.” He laughed again, looking back to the tank and covering his mouth. Dean could still see his smile. “You caught bees.”

Dean chuckled nervously, still painfully aware that he shouldn’t enter the room. Not with just Cas.

“Yeah,” he said. “Um, to make up for the ones – the ones –“ He couldn’t bring himself to actually say it.

Cas only laughed again. “You caught _bees_ ,” he repeated, turning back to him. “Dean, _bees_.”

“Yup,” Dean said, rubbing his palms on his sweatpants. “Bees. Charlie and I –“

“Thank you,” Cas said, cutting him off as the first of his tears began to fall. He wiped them away, letting them soak into his bandages. “Dean, thank you.”

“Of course,” Dean said, shrugging his shoulders and staring at the ground. “It was the least I could do –“

He hadn’t been watching when Cas moved forward so he was caught off guard when Cas grabbed him in a hug, squeezing him tight. He buried his face in Dean’s shoulder with a laugh and then a sniffle as his tears kept falling. It took Dean a moment before he hugged Cas back, awkwardly at first and then with a little more confidence.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, whispering his words into his shirt. “Dean. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “I mean, of course. I’m glad you like them. Charlie helped with them and I did my best to remember the tank you brought it. Is it good?”

Cas leaned back a bit, not pulling away from the hug but enough so that he could look up at Dean. He was smiling and his cheeks had tear tracks. “You got the wrong flowers,” he said with a laugh. “The wrong flowers – and it’s perfect.”

Dean smiled back. “Well, I’m glad you like it,” he said. “It took me hours to catch them. But I made sure none of them were hurt.”

“Thank you,” Cas repeated, hugging him back tighter and hiding his face again. It was a whisper, like his voice was giving back out, as if those words were exhausting. “For bees. Dean – thank you.”

Dean buried his nose in Cas’s hair and took in his shampoo-y smell. It wasn’t anything extravagant or exotic, probably just the basic clean smell that store brand shampoo comes in. And it was perfect.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

There was a sudden crash from downstairs and a yelp of surprise that sounded suspiciously like Gabe. The walls were seriously in need of soundproofing because then came teasing giggles, some murmured words, and then suspicious silence. Dean and Cas stood there for a moment before Dean decided someone had to break the awkward silence.

“Do we dare check?” he asked.

Cas kept his face in Dean’s shoulder. “No,” he said. “Gabe told me – he wasn’t going to wait long.”

Dean made a face. “Ew.”

“It’s Gabe,” Cas said and sighed contentedly. “And Dean. Thank you.”


	25. Assignment Twenty-Five

Cas hugged Dean as tight as he dared, not wanting to actually wake him up, just wanting to hold him closer. He shifted, trying to untangle his feet from the sheets so he could hook them around Dean’s legs. He didn’t even regret falling asleep in Dean’s arms last night. It was early morning now and the sunbeams were barely starting to trickle through the window. Early enough that they didn’t have to get up yet. Early enough that Cas had an excuse to snuggle himself closer to Dean and close his eyes for a few moments longer. To stay in bed for a few more minutes.

And Dean sighed in contentment and unconsciously snuggled back. He murmured in his sleep and then fidgeted restlessly, his hands searching blindly until they found Cas’s. Then he snorted and settled back down, very much like an oversized baby.

Cas smiled and let himself relax against Dean, burying his face in the back of Dean’s shoulder. He felt content and calm, surprisingly without a hint of anxiety.

“Do you think they’re awake?” Gabe whispered, his voice coming from outside the door of the guest bedroom.

Cas grinned against the fabric of Dean’s shirt, squeezing him tighter. Maybe if he didn’t make a noise, Gabe would leave them alone.

“We shouldn’t disturb them,” Sam whispered.

Cas hoped Sam would be able to convince Gabe to go back downstairs or something. He wanted a couple more minutes with Dean.

“Just wait,” Gabe said. “I want to see.”

Cas turned his face as the door opened, hiding himself so that Gabe wouldn’t be able to see that he was awake. He tracked his brother’s movement through noise as Gabe walked across the room. Cas feigned sleep, evening out his breath and praying that Dean wouldn’t wake up either. Gabe crouched on his side of the bed.

“Yo, brother of mine,” he whispered. Comically loud and not at all subtle.

Cas wanted to cover Dean’s ears but didn’t dare move.

“Sam and I totally did it last night,” Gabe went on. “And, obviously, I can see you’re getting ready to tap that.” He shifted and reached around, shoving something into Cas’s hand. He then patted Cas’s shoulder lovingly. “Good luck. Stay safe.”

He even laid a kiss on Cas’s shoulder so gently and tenderly that Cas had to hold his breath to stop himself from laughing and shaking everyone awake. Thankfully, Gabe retreated quickly out of the room, and Cas listened to him and Sam share smothered giggles and then quiet moans as they met each other in a kiss.

Cas kept up his sleeping charade until he heard the footsteps down the stairs. And then he waited a couple minutes longer before opening his eyes and shifting slightly to see what Gabe had tucked into his hand. He had to stifle a giggle.

A condom.

And then he blushed at the implications. It was nice that his brother was looking out for him. It could be worse. Gabe could hate him for his romantic and sexual preferences. And on the other hand . . . .

Cas wasn’t sure he could do . . . . _that_ with Dean. It felt like too much. Just rolling up his sleeves yesterday had taken everything in him and afterwards left him exhausted. Cas could barely begin to even imagine what it would feel like to take his shirt completely off. He shivered. His _pants_. God, he hadn’t undressed in front of someone in forever. He couldn’t remember the last time. Maybe before college?

He felt ugly underneath his clothes. Vulnerable. Sometimes, in the shower, he would count his ribs or let his hands sink into the valley between his hips or he would feel the way water collected in his collar bones. He knew that’s not what a normal person would look like. And maybe that’s why he could never dream of showing someone else the way he looked.

Cas carefully tucked the condom underneath his pillow, making a note to snag it later and throw it away before Dean could find it. The poor doctor would probably go red with embarrassment and have him stuttering excuses and reasons they wouldn’t be allowed to do such a thing because of doctor rules and whatever. Cas wondered what would happen if he stopped being Dean’s patient and became an acquaintance instead. It was a wistful thought.

Cas nearly jumped out of bed when Dean rolled over in his sleep. He was scared, for a moment, that Dean had actually woken up and somehow heard what he had been thinking.

But no. Dean just settled back down with a sigh. Cas wrinkled his nose at the morning-breath smell. Dean was still sound asleep, but now they were laying face-to-face. Cas studied him with a lingering smile.

God, he was so far gone.

Dean’s skin was pale from spending hours indoors with patients and before that, studying. His lips were a perfect, pale pink, utterly kissable. Cas chewed his own lip just thinking about it. Dean had a smattering of freckles across his nose that trailed across his cheeks. When his shirts rode down on his shoulders, Cas could often glimpse even more freckles there. Like stars almost.

Carefully, he brought a hand up and gently pressed a fingertip against one of the darker spots along Dean’s cheekbone. He traced a line to another one under Dean’s eye. He poked his way to Dean’s nose, right down to the tip. He smiled and traced the freckles on Dean’s other cheek, losing himself in the moment until Dean groaned, schrunching his eyes and then he was awake.

“Do you usually poke people first thing in the morning?” he asked.

His voice was all rumbly with sleep, and even though he smelled bad, Cas was struck with the urge to kiss him right then and that. He held back, giving Dean a smile. It took him a moment to realize that he actually had to respond as of last night.

“Yeah,” he said, aware that his own voice was just as gravelly if not more. “All the time.”

Dean closed his eyes and turned his face into the pillow. Cas could still see his smile.

“All the time?” he repeated, his words muffled against the fabric. “All the time, god, I bet you do.” He snorted and lay there a moment with his face against the pillow.

And then all of a sudden he bolted upright, scrambling out of the bed.

“God, sorry,” he said, stumbling as his feet tangled in the sheets. He almost went down but was able to catch himself. Cas was on his elbows, making sure he was okay. “I didn’t mean to crowd you.”

“No,” Cas blurted. He leaned across the bed and grabbed Dean’s hand, stopping him from running out of the room. “I – I mean, I don’t mind. I’m not – it’s not bad.”

Dean gave his hand a squeeze and offered him a pained smile. “Cas, I’m still your therapist,” he said. “Just because you’re comfortable with it, doesn’t make it right.”

Cas swallowed, squeezing Dean’s hand back, wanting to pull him back down. “What if I wasn’t?” he said. “Your patient, I mean. What if I stopped seeing you? What if I saw the school nurse instead? What if –“

“Cas,” Dean said softly, cutting him off. “I’m not sure we could ever –“ He smiled grim. “With our history, it seems so –“

“Implausible,” Cas finished and let his hand go. He slumped back against the pillows. “I get it.”

“Complicated,” Dean said, fixing his eyes on the ground.

Cas scowled and curled his hands into tight fists. “That’s what life is,” he murmured. “Okay? You don’t think I know?”

Dean sat back down on the bed, grabbing his hand again. He gripped Cas tight. Cas let his fingers fall limp.

“I know you know,” he said. “I just – I just don’t want to make anyone angry.”

“My family doesn’t care,” Cas said. “You saw Gabe. Sam seems nice. Who would you be making angry? I don’t get it?” After not talking for so long, the words seemed to bubble out of him faster than he could think.

Dean pulled back the blankets and laid down, pulling Cas to his chest. He didn’t say anything, just held him tight. Cas relaxed into his grip, hiding his face in Dean’s shirt. He didn’t want to cry, and right now, his eyes were on the verge of betraying him. They lay there a while. Cas waited for Dean to say something, to move, to do anything. But he was silent. Cas felt his heart kick up a notch, beating just a little bit faster and a little bit harder. He started to pant a little, hyperventilate. And he knew for certain that he didn’t want this to happen, not here, not now.

He pushed away from Dean, enough so that they could look into each other’s eyes. Dean seemed surprised, but Cas didn’t let him speak first.

“Say ‘fuck the world’,” he said.

Dean laughed. Until he realized Cas wasn’t joking.

“What do you mean?” he said.

Cas fisted Dean’s shirt, clutching him tight. “Say it,” he said. “Say ‘fuck you’ to the world.”

“Fuck you?” Dean said, raising an eyebrow.

Cas gathered the courage to look him straight in the eye. “Louder,” he said, raising his own voice slightly. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” Dean repeated with a little more confidence this time.

“Fuck it,” Cas said.

“Fuck them,” Dean said.

“Fuck the world.”

“Fuck everything.”

“Fuck life,” Cas finished. Softly, this time. Not as loud as the others. Exhaustion dragging his voice down more than anything.

Dean caught his chin in his hand and lifted his gaze up. “Not life,” he corrected. “Not yet.”

“Then fuck what the world thinks of us,” Cas said. “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to go? Isn’t that what you said?”

Dean seemed to surrender at that, sighing and slumping back into the pillows. “You can’t not care at all,” he said.

“Then I won’t care enough,” Cas said. “I’ll care – I’ll care _just_ enough. But it’s like – can you – I don’t know? Care back?”

Dean nodded. “I can do that,” he said. “I can care a lot.”

“And I’ll care a little,” Cas said, closing his eyes. “Enough.”

 

~~~~

 

Hunger eventually drove them downstairs. Sam had whipped up pancakes in the kitchen and Gabe was sitting on the counter, eating them. He wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“To the victor!” he said, toasting Cas’s entrance with his fork. He raised his pancakes. “Goes the spoils.” He took a huge bite.

“School’s off for a day before finals,” Sam explained, flipping a pancake. “So students can rest up and everything. I thought I’d make breakfast.”

“I haven’t had breakfast in forever,” Dean said, grabbing two plates from the cupboard and handing one to Cas.

“Chocolate chips,” Gabe said and then nodded to Cas. “And blueberries.”

“And let me tell you, Gabe was personally offended that we had organic blueberries in our fridge. You should have seen him. He practically had a break down,” Sam said.

Dean raised an eyebrow, moving to another cupboard to get cups. “You guys are pretty talkative,” he commented. “Did you get enough sleep last night, Sammy?”

Sam’s cheeks went instantly pink and he froze, his spatula half under the pancake he was currently working on. His gaze snapped to Gabe, who had also frozen mid-bite. He coughed and set his fork down, about to blurt out some excuse most likely.

“I’ll have blueberries,” Cas cut in, bravely being the one to break the silence.

Gabe’s plate shattered as it hit the floor. His pancakes splattered, and the clang of his fork across the tiles followed moments after. He jumped off the counter, vaulting over the mess and tackling Cas in a hug. He was shouting and jumping up and down. The half seconds he did stand still Dean glimpsed tears streaming down his face.

“Cas, I’ve missed you so much!” Gabe was babbling. “It feels like you’ve been gone and missing and I’ve been alone! It was the worst feeling ever and now you’re talking again and God, I’m crying! Fuck, fuck, fuck me sideways! Cas, god, you’re _back_!”

He was laughing and crying and jumping, and his face was a mess of tears and snot. Cas was laughing too, returning his hugs but having a hard time keeping a hold of him as he bounced up and down.

“Yup,” he said. “I’m . . . . . back?”

Gabe was now burying himself into Cas’s arms, squeezing him tighter than what was probably healthy.

“Say it again,” he said. “Can you say it again? God, just say anything, just keep talking forever. Read a dictionary even, I don’t care. I never want to hear you not talk ever again.”

“I love you, Gabe,” Cas said with a smile. “And I’m sorry I scared you.”

Gabe pushed him away and leveled him with a tear-y eyed glare.

“No,” he said, as if he were chastising a puppy. “No, please don’t make this your fault.” He sniffed and wiped his tears on the back of his hand. “God, Cas, you deserve love and kisses and cuddles and hot drinks and cold drinks and good food! You deserve everything!”

Cas laughed, wiping his own eyes as they started to water. “And you deserve not to worry,” he said.

“And I think we all deserve pancakes,” Sam said, flipping the newest cakes onto Dean’s and Cas’s plates. “We should eat up. We can talk as we go.”

Gabe didn’t want to let Cas go at first. Sam sprinkled a couple extra chocolate chips and added a dollop of whipped cream to a new plate of pancakes and managed to coax him into the seat next to Cas. Dean settled into the seat across from Cas, next to Sam, and dug into his own pancakes after adding syrup.

“So we’re all talking again,” Sam said. “That’s good.” He glanced to Dean and raised an eyebrow. “That’s . . . . . progress?”

Dean nodded even though he didn’t want to talk about it, especially at the table, in front of Cas himself. He took a huge bite so that he wouldn’t have to answer. Gabe was still blubbering into his pancakes, sniffling and wiping his eyes every couple bites. He seemed to be recovering though, pulling himself back together.

“So, do you think you’re ready for finals?” Dean asked, looking to Sam. “I mean, after everything?”

“I did the best I could,” Sam said around a bite of pancakes. He shrugged. “Cramming doesn’t really work so I’ll relax today mostly and stress tomorrow. Cas, you’re a senior, right?”

Cas swallowed what he had in his mouth and nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m going to be testing,” he said. “I haven’t been keeping up with my classes so much. Um, my teachers know why, but I think I’m going to be, ah, taking another year.”

“Understandable,” Sam said.

“Charlie’s graduating,” Cas said. “My friend, I mean. This Saturday. She’s excited.”

“I’m this Friday,” Sam said. “Are you two coming?”

“Of course!” Gabe said. The worst of his tears had passed by now. He glanced to Cas. “Yeah?”

Cas smiled. “Why not?” He looked to Dean. “You’ll be there?”

“Definitely,” he said, clapping Sam’s shoulder with a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“It’s a formal event,” Sam went on. “You got something to wear?”

“Sure,” Cas said.

“We need to go shopping,” Gabe said at the same time. Before Cas could protest, Gabe rushed on. “I didn’t bring anything, and I’m ninety percent sure you’re thinking about the one suit you happened to bring. And that’s a hand-me-down, I might add.”

“Everything I have is hand-me-downs,” Cas said with a roll of his eyes.

“Which is why you need something new,” Gabe said. “Come on, what’s more fun than shopping with your big brother?”

Cas snuck a glance to Dean and smiled, like there was definitely something more fun that shopping with Gabe. But he nodded and didn’t protest. “Alright,” he said. “After lunch?”

Gabe wiped his eyes. “After breakfast?” he offered.

Cas nodded. Gabe’s eyes were now that after-cry red and still tear-y. His cheeks were wet, and he looked quite pathetic, and honestly, who could say no to a face like that? Not even Dean who shrugged at their plans and took another bite of pancakes. Gabe ate faster then and left his plate on the table as he hurried off to get ready to leave. Cas finished close behind him and put both of their plates in the sink, giving Dean a shy smile before leaving to get ready as well. Dean and Sam sat in silence for a moment, pushing their food around their plates.

“So, a week,” Sam said. “And Cas – what? He goes home?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” Dean said honestly.

“I wouldn’t think he’d stay here,” Sam said. “I mean, Gabe’s gotta have some place even if Cas couldn’t go back to his other brother’s.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Dean said. Truthfully, he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t really want to think about Cas leaving. It was already clear he couldn’t quite handle that quite yet.

Sam nudged his shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Gabe and I – uh, we agreed that our families should stay in contact.”

Dean gave him a look and a smirk. “You know,” he said, cutting himself another bite. “I did promise you eight hours of sleep last night. How did that go?”

Sam wrinkled his nose and laughed. “Yeah, and you and Cas were so quiet,” he remarked. “I noticed he’s talking again. Last night must’ve been crazy for both of us.”

“We’re headed out!” Gabe yelled from the living room, sounding much more put together and collected.

“Have fun!” Sam called back.

The front door slammed before Dean could say anything but he didn’t really care. He figured they would be back before dinner, and it wasn’t too worrisome knowing Cas was out with family. He finished his own breakfast and helped Sam with the dishes. Once Gabe’s pancakes were cleaned up off the floor, Dean headed upstairs and checked on the tank of bees. Someone – most likely Cas – had refilled their sugar water so they were all set. He plopped down on the guest bed, still unmade from his and Cas’s night.

A week.

Such a final amount of time.

A deadline.

Dean didn’t like having a deadline.

He stood back up and made the bed. He did a quick clean up in the bathroom, mostly just stuff left behind by Gabe. It wasn’t much and didn’t take long. He started a load of laundry and wandered back into the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee he didn’t really want and settled in the living room. Sam must be back somewhere studying because the house was quiet. Dean could turn on the TV but for some reason he didn’t really want to. He sat there in silence and cradled the cup of coffee in his lap, letting the heat slowly seep out. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting out a sigh. He wasn’t anxious, really. Definitely not antsy. Not completely calm either though. Dean sat there, trying to decide what he _did_ feel like.

A week.

A week was fine.

He could do a week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> username and icon change, nothing to do with the story, just easier for me, 
> 
> also, look at the chapter numbers! I have an ending, it's all planned out, it's all coming together ^-^


	26. Assignment Twenty-Six

 

That Friday, they attended Sam’s graduation.

Sam was supposed to arrive early, so Dean and him drove the Impala to the school. Gabe promised he and Cas would take a taxi later. So Dean was hanging around with the other parents in the lobby of the dining hall, munching on the hors d’oeuvres that were available. Fancy things like tiny sandwiches and mushrooms stuffed with cheese and, Dean’s favorite, the itty bitty hamburgers that were speared with toothpick swords and served en mass. Small tumblers of punch were available on a side table with sides of lemon and cherry, although woefully weak in Dean’s opinion. He leaned against a wall and listened to mothers brag about their children’s degrees and how much money they would make in the future. Once or twice, they tried to drag him into the debating but he declined and kept to himself. He munched the small hamburgers until an usher told them all that they could take their seats, and everyone made their way into the auditorium.

Dean had saved three seats that were almost front and center. They were in the center wedge of seating at least. There were aisles on both sides that students would be walking down, and Sam hadn’t been sure which one he would be on so Dean had done his best with seating. He milled around the three folding chairs that were his, not really wanting to sit just yet. He had too much energy.

More guests began to flow in, taking up other seats. Families starting to join the parents and professors ambling in. Photographers grabbing good positions early and mothers trying to herd their kids into place. Everyone was dressed in their very best cocktail dresses and crisp black suits. All the women looked like princesses and all the men looked like princes. And yet, Dean knew the moment Cas stepped into the room. Maybe it was because he had been watching the doors, maybe his eyes just automatically found Cas in the chaos.

The graduation certainly was a big to do. Parents putting on their very best to come see the result of thousands of dollars invested into their kids. Not, of course, the Shurleys.

Gabe, for one, couldn’t be bothered to put on anything nicer than jeans and a t-shirt. But he had, of course, forced Cas to wear what they had bought that Monday. Needless to say, they both stood out like sore thumbs as they walked into the giant auditorium together.

And Dean. God, Dean – he felt his heart pound in his chest.

Cas was wearing a brand-new suit, not a speck of dust or lint in sight. His hair was styled up thought it wasn’t clear if he had used product or not. His eyes darted nervously over the crowd as he wrung his hands. He looked like he was going to back out when his eyes found Dean’s face, and he smiled.

Dean felt his heart melt in his chest, and his eyes flooded with tears. It wasn’t just seeing Cas. Maybe it was because Sam was graduating as well and emotions were already running high. In any case, caused by whatever, he found himself on the verge of crying.

Cas’s suit was a deep maroon and had a crisp black pocket square that matched his silky black tie. He wore a spotless white button down underneath the jacket and gleaming black dress shoes. But what caught Dean unawares were the sleeves of the suit coat of all things.

They were quarter sleeves. Half sleeves. Short sleeves. Sleeves that didn’t cover everything and that’s what mattered.

It was around Wednesday night that his cuts had been healed enough that he didn’t need a new set of bandages after taking the old ones off. But Cas had been wearing long sleeves ever since, although he let Dean massage medicine onto his arms every morning after.

And yet, here Cas was. In a suit. A suit with sleeves that only came down to his elbows and left nothing to the imagination.

And god, he was waving to get Dean’s attention.

“Dean!” Gabe yelled, bouncing on his toes. He was waving too and tugged Cas along until they reached the seats Dean had saved. “Geez, the parking is horrendous. If we didn’t take a taxi, we would’ve been circling the block for _hours_.”

Dean was hardly paying attention. His eyes were fixed on Cas who was hiding shyly behind Gabe. When he realized he was the center of Dean’s attention, he offered a smile.

“Hey,” he said. “Glad to see we made it on time.” He coughed awkwardly and gestured to his suit. “Like it?”

“Like it?” Dean repeated. “ _Like_ it? I love it! You look amazing!”

“Ugh,” Gabe said with a groan. “I’m gonna go find Sam.” He disappeared before anyone could comment, and Dean and Cas were left alone.

“This is. . . . . . . . huge,” Dean said, struggling to find words to fit how he felt. His eyes automatically fixated on the pearly white scars.

Cas squirmed under his gaze, tucking his arms closer to his stomach. “I thought it was time,” Cas said. “Because . . . .” He finally locked eyes with Dean and took a deep breath. “Because I no longer want you as my therapist.”

He said it with such intensity and certainty that for a moment, Dean was ready to start crying. But then Cas continued on in a tumble of words.

“Because I think I am at a point in my life where I can try to go on by myself. Not that I don’t need any more help or that I am perfectly healed, but because I think you have helped me as much as you can, and I can’t cling to you forever.”

“Cas,” Dean said.

“Wait,” Cas said. “I practiced this. Just . . . . I need to finish before you say anything.” He took another steadying breath and went on. “You’ve done a lot for me, Dean, and maybe not all of it was good in the moment you did it, but I got to the place I needed to go. And that was here. I don’t want you to hate me for leaving. In fact, I really hope that we can stay in contact after this. I just want the nature of our relationship to change.”

Dean opened his mouth, but Cas cut him off a second time.

“I’m not talking about dating,” he said. “Or love or whatever. And definitely not, um, sex. But I want to be close to you without people thinking you are taking advantage of me. Okay? It’s like – I want to be friends without people thinking bad stuff about us.”

Dean nodded and waited for him to go on. Cas slumped his shoulders.

“That’s all,” he said. “That’s all I planned on saying. So . . . . . . you can go now.”

“Cas,” Dean said. “That’s . . . . wow, a lot. I mean, _of course_ we can be friends. That will never change. And – I won’t say that everything I did as a therapist was perfect, because it wasn’t, and at one point I felt like I had ruined everything. What I mean to say is, I understand your decision completely, and we don’t have to have any more sessions together.”

Cas shook his head. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said. “I just needed – we _both_ needed, I think, time to grow.”

Before Dean could say anything else, the piano and organ at the front of the auditorium began to play, and everyone began rushing to their seats. He and Cas were bumped and nudged until they were also forced to sit. Dean was stunned for a moment until Cas threaded their fingers together and gripped his hand tight. Dean looked to him in surprise, and Cas offered him an encouraging smile. Dean returned it, and the ceremony started.

After several keynote speakers giving advice to the seniors that were graduating, the president of the college stepped up to the podium. He wore a big smile as he gestured for all the seniors to stand.

“Please welcome, the graduating class of this year!” he said proudly.

Cas and Dean had to break their handholding in order to clap.

It took a while for Sam’s name to be called. He was a Winchester after all. Cas and Dean clapped politely after each name was announced and did their best not to roll their eyes when each family jumped at the opportunity for a picture. It took a while, but finally the president reached the law students that were graduating and finally – _finally_ – Sam’s name was called.

“Samuel William Winchester,” the president called, picking up the next diploma.

Sam almost tripped over himself in his rush to get up the stage steps and when he accepted the diploma he was beaming like he had won the lottery. He towered over the president and with his black gown, he looked like some sort of ghost. But when he found Dean in the crowd, he smiled even wider and pumped his fist in the air, holding his diploma triumphantly over his head. Before Dean could react, Cas had his phone out and was snapping pictures. Now, it was everyone else’s turn to clap and wait politely until Sam dropped his hands to his sides, allowed his tassel to be flipped, and walked to the opposite side of the stage. Someone in the crowd quite literally flung themselves at him as he stepped down the steps and he stumbled to catch them in his arms. Dean jerked forward in his seat in shock, but Cas pulled him back down.

“It’s just Gabe,” he said, quiet enough so he wouldn’t disturb the people around them. “He mentioned he would be doing this.”

“Oh,” Dean said, as he realized his and Cas’s brothers were making out on the steps of the platform, prompting wolf-whistles and catcalls from some of the other seniors.

“Gabe doesn’t know subtlety,” Cas said with a soft laugh, sneaking one last picture of them on stage. “And you gotta love him for it.”

“He’s something,” Dean said. “Something . . . . . else.”

Cas slipped their hands back together, lacing their fingers. He let his phone fall into his lap as he turned his attention to Dean, ignoring the ceremony on stage.

“I can’t believe,” he whispered. “That at the beginning of the semester, I wanted to kill myself.”

Dean swallowed hard, the shock making his chest seize up. His heart skipped a beat and for a moment, he wasn’t even sure what to say. Cas? Dead? He didn’t even want to think about it. “It’s a good thing you didn’t,” he managed to say, keeping the shakiness in his voice to a minimum. “I’m . . . . glad you didn’t.”

“You know,” Cas said, looking back to the stage and leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I told myself that you were the last therapist I would ever have. Because if you didn’t help me, I didn’t think there would be any hope for me at all. After you, there was going to be nothing.”

“Cas,” Dean whispered. Why hadn’t Cas told him any of this at the beginning?

“And then you started me on those goddamn assignments,” Cas said with a soft laugh. “Assignment one, assignment two, like homework I actually wanted to do.” He paused. “I think . . . . . just having something to work towards was good.”

Dean nodded and kept his mouth shut. No point in demanding Cas share now. Besides, Cas had terminated their contract already. Dean wasn’t entitled to any of this information. Cas was just being nice enough to share it.

“Did you ever have assignments?” Cas asked. “Stuff you gave yourself . . . . to keep going?”

“Of course,” Dean said. He was completely ignoring the ceremony now, focused only on how many breaths Cas was taking and how he felt against his shoulder. “I think everyone does that. Maybe not so explicitly, but they always have a goal they’re working towards.”

“Can I give you an assignment?” Cas said.

“Of course!” Dean said and then winced when someone cleared their throat behind them in annoyance. He lowered his voice. “Of course, Cas.”

Cas tipped his head back and stared up at Dean. “Assignment one,” he said and swallowed. “Kiss me.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to react. The old excuses bubbled up in his throat but didn’t make it out of his mouth. He stared into Cas’s blue eyes, searching for anything that was telling him no. But for once, Dean couldn’t find anything but trust. He thought about asking Cas if he was sure. If he _really_ wanted this. If he was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent certain. But the questions died in his chest. Everything seemed to die in his chest. So he forgot the questions and kissed Cas.

It was short and chaste, just pressing their lips together and forgetting everything that was going on around them. It was enough for Dean though, and it was enough for Cas as he pulled away with a smile.

“Good,” he said. “Assignment two.”

Dean smiled. “How many of these are there going to be?” he asked teasingly.

Cas shrugged with a cheeky smile of his own. “However many it takes,” he said. “Listen, assignment two is that you have to keep in touch me when I go home.”

“You’re going home?” Dean repeated.

Cas nodded. “I can’t stay here forever,” he said. “I’ll go back home for the summer, maybe take some online classes, and then come back for the fall semester.” He paused, glancing up to the stage where the president was now giving the final speech. “You’ll stay here, right?”

“Probably,” Dean said and caught Cas’s worried intake of breath. “Definitely,” he quickly amended. “I don’t know what Sam is doing with his degree but my office is here. I won’t be going anywhere for a while, I think.”

Cas relaxed, running his fingers over the inside of his arm. “That will by okay,” he said. “That will be . . . . alright.”

Dean slung an arm around him and pulled him to his chest. “I’m no longer your therapist, but I can still give you support,” he said. “As a friend, because that’s what friends do. I’m not going to leave you, Cas, especially not now.”

They must’ve missed the ending of the ceremony because suddenly everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering. Over their heads, Dean and Cas saw the tumble of tossed graduation caps as the graduates cast off their robes and made a march of victory to the freedom outside the auditorium double doors.

“We should find Sam,” Cas said, slipping out from under Dean’s arm and standing to stretch his legs. “I bet Gabe is hungry and he’s not one to wait around for too long.”

Dean stood with him. “Okay, I didn’t hear anything about a reception though. We’ll probably have to find a place.”

“That’s okay,” Cas said, making his way down the row, following the flow to the exit.

Dean noticed the stares Cas got as he pushed through the crowd. Everyone’s eyes seemed to drift automatically to his arms. Some people immediately looked away. Others couldn’t stop staring. Some were little kids and some were adults. Cas seemed to stand out from them, and Dean wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was his new suit and the way the sleeves cut off at the elbows. Maybe it was the way he was able to move through the crowd while barely touching anyone. Like he was a ghost. Like he was alive.

Dean had to hurry to keep up and he wasn’t nearly as fluid as Cas. He bumped into several people before making it out the doors, but he immediately spotted Sam and Gabe underneath a nearby tree, arms locked around each other, talking with Cas. He walked over.

“Congratulations, Sam,” Cas was saying as he walked up.

“Same to you,” Sam said, nodding to Cas’s clothes.

Gabe was practically pawing at Sam’s chest for attention. “Come on, we have to go celebrate, right? This is a thing you celebrate! We should celebrate with _drinks_.”

“Geez, just hold up,” Sam said, doing absolutely nothing to brush off Gabe’s roaming hands. “Wait for Dean. We don’t have to jump ship so fast. We have all night.”

“Nu-uh,” Gabe said in a singsong voice. “Didn’t I say I was leaving today? What’ll you do about a distant lover, Sammy? How many sweet letters will you send me?”

“Zero if you don’t shut up,” Sam said.

Dean looked to Cas in confusion. “You’re leaving _today_?”

Cas only shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important to mention,” he said. “Besides, Sam _graduated_. Isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?”

Not that important? Dean wanted to correct him and tell him how wrong he was. Gabe was talking before he could get out a word.

“Maybe if you bribe me enough, I’ll hand over the plane tickets,” he said, winking at Sam as he patted his pocket. “You can start with a kiss.”

“And you can start by keeping it in your pants, geez,” Sam replied. “I just graduated. I’m running on three hours of sleep and seven cups of coffee.”

“The perfect ten,” Gabe crooned.

“I could eat,” Cas said. “How about we go somewhere really quick, and we can have our goodbyes there.”

Dean looked to him and bit his lip. “I can pay,” he offered. “It’s the least I could do.”

“I need something unhealthy,” Sam said. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this but, damn, do I need a burger. Like, the greasiest burger you can find with _everything on it_.”

“I love the way your mind works,” Gabe said. “Come on, let’s go!”

The car ride to the restaurant was loud and noisy as everyone tried to talk at once, it seemed. Even Cas raised his voice to put in his opinion on what crossed the line as a burger topping. Donuts, okay. Skittles, no. Dean smiled to himself as he pulled into the restaurant parking lot. While he would disagree that nothing sweet belonged on a good old fashioned burger, just listening to everyone take sides was amusing. They were all laughing and joking. Dean could almost forget that Cas was leaving today.

Almost. It did continue to nag at the back of his mind.

Soon, they were seated and given menus. Sam barely glanced at his before sliding it aside. Gabe browsed for a minute more before claiming he was just getting whatever Sam got. Cas mentioned a chicken salad before putting his menu away, and Dean decided on just a normal burger as well. The waitress came and took their orders, getting them all glasses of soda and water as well.

“So,” Gabe said, being the first to start the conversation. “How does it feel to be done with school, Sam?”

“Amazing,” Sam said with a huge sigh. “It feels like the biggest victory in my life! Bigger than when I first got accepted to college!”

“Against all odds,” Dean said, raising his glass of water in a toast and giving Sam a big smile. “You made it. Congratulations.”

Cas and Gabe echoed the toast with their own glasses, and everyone drank to that. It took several more minutes before their food arrived and they all dug in ravenously, Sam especially. There was a little off hand conversation but they were mostly busy eating. Dean briefly considered ordering dessert when they neared the end of their burgers but held himself back.

It was time for Cas to leave. And this time, Dean wasn’t going to be the one to hold him back.

And so, he was surprised when Cas pulled him aside after paying for the meal, when Sam and Gabe had already headed out to the car and he and Cas were left by themselves in the lobby of the restaurant.

“Hey,” Cas said, catching him right as he was about to head out the door.

“What’s up?” Dean said, tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

Cas was staring at his hands. “Bathroom?” he offered.

Dean nodded reluctantly and let Cas drag him into the cold, tiled silence. It wasn’t until he closed the door that he realized Cas was breathing heavily, clenching the hem of his suit coat tight. Dean recoiled instinctively and then thought better of it. He moved to Cas’s side.

“You okay?” he asked.

Cas nodded but wouldn’t meet his gaze. He tapped a frantic rhythm on his leg and fidgeted around before ripping the faucet on and scooping himself a mouthful of water. Dean could only rub circles on his back as Cas curled over the sink, panting like a dog, taking swallow after swallow of water. It took a couple minutes before he reined in his breathing by taking deep gulps. Still, he was shaky as he straightened and wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he shut off the sink and grabbed paper towels to dry his mouth. “I just – I’m _leaving_.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Dean said. “Do you need more water? I think Sam has bottles out in the car.”

“No, I’m fine,” Cas said. “That was just – it was small, I’m fine.” He wiped droplets of water off his chin and finally looked up. “This makes me look bad, doesn’t it? Like I can’t survive on my own?”

Dean quickly shook his head. “No one expects you to be perfect,” he said. “No one expects you to be at one hundred percent all the time. You may not be there yet, but you’re closer than you were before.”

Cas nodded and took a deep, stabling breath, tossing the ball of paper towels into the trash. “You’re right,” he said and laughed. “Of course you’re right, you’re a therapist.”

Dean smiled. “Are you ready to go?”

Cas nodded. “I think I am,” he said.

Together, they walked out of the bathroom, out of the restaurant, and to the car. And while Gabe didn’t comment on it, they were holding hands the entire time.

 


	27. Epilogue

And Cas survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Talk with me?](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fmanuscript-or.tumblr.com%2F&h=ATNVMN_uZvU7WtqVtIax_1sxCSwa4oCNe7fdm-w__uhL104vekSnLvLqYlOYaGbuP1xzUNrObh81DzexMLgahQ-1wSI4LRyOqeL_x_MXe4p_ogV75c3yWhSNwHoOljFiVqyf5yrPXeQsTQ)


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